


Dying Flowers

by lamuexte



Category: Book of Life (2014), book of life
Genre: F/M, partial AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamuexte/pseuds/lamuexte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been one year since Sasha and her friends heard the famous story of Manolo. They want to try and see La Muerte again, and get her to tell them one of her heartfelt stories, but what they get instead is something much different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> {I wrote this a few months after I first watched TBOL. The idea came up to me out of nowhere, so I just rolled with it. This was done before I joined Twitter, and before I saw all of Jorge's tweets that gave information on the characters. So technically, in a way, this is a partial AU - I'm using OCs as well as characters from the movie.}

It was a gorgeous summer day in New York – everyone was out and about. The parks were busy, and the streets were filled with tourists and their fancy cameras.

Sanjay had gotten the great idea to meet up with his friends in front of the museum – he and Sasha were the first to arrive, backpacks slung over their shoulders with the daily necessities. Sasha said her mom packed her favorite – all Sanjay did was roll his eyes and laugh.

It wasn’t long before their other three friends had arrived – “Mom insisted I do the dishes before I left,” Jane grumbled. “She also tried to make me leave my skates at home…” A sly smile, and she pulled them out of her bag with a flourish. 

“I got a bunch of chocolate from my dad!,” Julio stated, brushing some purple strands of hair away from his face to peer down into his pack. “I mean, of course my mom was against it, but how could I resist!?”

A laugh from the group of kids – Sanjay groaned. “Are we gonna get going or what? The museum is gonna close in a few hours. There’s a lot to do.” Nods passed through the group, and the kids headed up to the door, pushing it open and stepping inside the large space. 

“Five tickets please!,” Sasha grinned at the ticketmaster, bouncing on her toes to just be able to see him. The man behind the counter grinned. “Kids are free on Tuesdays,” he laughed. “Go right ahead ~ ”

With a skip, Jane and Sasha went on ahead, Julio, Sanjay, and Dennis following close behind. “Thanks man!,” Sanjay called back.  
As the kids wandered through the large building, they noticed how many tours were out and about. “What’s wrong Sasha?,” Jane asked, glancing down at the smaller girl with confusion in her eyes.

Sasha was looking all around the museum, as though she were expecting someone. “Sanjay! She’s not here!” More confused glances from the other three kids. “Who’s not here?,” Julio asked.

A smile from Sanjay. “You know who…” The whole group of kids gasped – they couldn’t be serious. That must’ve been a onetime deal.

“Here’s why I called you all here,” Sanjay started, gathering his friends into a circle. “Sasha had a great idea last week – she thought we would try and find La Muerte again. We would be able to listen to another story if we found her.” 

Dennis continued to chew on his gum – he didn’t know whether he should intervene or not. Luckily, Jane did it for him.  
“There are tons of tour guides here during the summer – you can’t expect to find her! Plus – that was a year ago. We can’t even prove that was real.”

Sasha gasped, and the whole group turned to her, expecting her to go on and on about how La Muerte was most definitely real – again. But their eyes followed her finger as she pointed past Sanjay’s head – and there they saw her.

“It’s her,” Sasha squeaked, jumping on the balls of her feet. “We have to go say hi!” They watched as the tour guide stopped to talk to a guard – smiling down at him before disappearing behind a corner. “That must’ve been Xibalba,” Julio whispered. “Only La Muerte would smile at him…”

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” With wide eyes, the group watched as Sasha dashed off, and Dennis groaned. “Let’s go get her,” he murmured, adjusting the straps on his backpack and beginning to trot after her. The others followed in hot pursuit.

“La Muerte! It’s me! Sasha! Wait up - ” The little girl sped around the column, hoping to catch a glance of red hair somewhere around the corner. But she wasn’t there. “Aw man…,” she murmured, turning away and heading back to the others.

Sanjay and the group came panting up to her not soon after she turned back. “You weren’t able to catch her?,” Jane asked, and Sasha shook her head. The group went silent. “We were so close,” Julio whispered, Dennis popping a bubble.

“Oh no – that’s too bad you couldn’t catch her. I think she was going home – we had a lot of people here today.” The group whirled around to see a familiar face. Sasha lit up again. “We don’t need her – we have him!” The security guard crossed his arms, mustache twitching in irritation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled, voice low.

“We know it’s you Xibalba,” Julio snickered. The man’s eyes grew wide for a split second, and then he muttered something foreign under his breath. “Fine, fine – you caught me.” Sanjay couldn’t help but laugh in delight. 

“So, why were you going after her anyway?,” the disguised man asked. The kids shared a look amongst themselves, and Sasha grinned up at him.

“We wanted to hear another story!,” she cried. The others nodded. “Yeah – it’s been so long. We wanted to see if we could hear some more,” Jane added.

The security guard instantly began to shake his head. “Well, she’s not here. You’re going to have to leave and come back some other day.” He turned away – he’d let the kids have their fun.

“Not unless you take us!” The man grimaced, body seizing up as he froze in his tracks. “I’m no tour guide,” he muttered, turning to face them once more. “It isn’t my job.” His eyes met the pleading gaze of Sanjay and Jane – Sasha was bouncing on her feet at the excitement of a new adventure. “Please Xibalba?”

The guard grumbled some more things under his breath, and then motioned for them to follow. “Fine – but you go by my rules, not La Muerte’s. There’s no talking unless I tell you to speak or let you ask questions. You won’t get over emotional and leave me to clean up after your stupid messes.” He glared at them. “Got it?” The group nodded.

It took a few minutes, but the group had made their way down a few halls and up to a wall. The man just kept on walking, the wall bending around him to make a new passageway. In amazement, the group followed, looking around in awe as they found themselves in the same festive hallway as before.

“Woah…,” they gasped, taking in the sights one more time. “So it wasn’t all fake…” A dark chuckle sounded behind them, and they turned to find themselves facing Xibalba.

His wings were ruffled slightly in amusement, eyebrows arched as he watched the kids. “Of course it wasn’t fake! You saw La Muerte transform in front of you guys, didn’t you?” The group was too in shock of the god’s appearance to respond.

“Now let’s get this over with,” he muttered, snapping his fingers – the lights came on, and he slithered over to the book. “It may not seem like it, but I do have a life beyond this ridiculous job.”

Resting besides the podium that held the special artifact, he glanced down at his spindled fingers. “Well – go ahead. Pick one.”  
Julio was the first to leap at the book, using all his strength to pull the book open. “La Muerte made it look so easy…,” he groaned. 

The first few pages flipped on by as it fell open. The other kids gathered around the podium, flipping the pages and looking for a story.

“What’s ‘Flos Moriens’?” Xibalba, who had been looking around at the colorful room in partial disgust, twisted his head to face them, horror in his eyes. “That’s um… that’s not a very important story,” he exclaimed hurriedly. “How about you turn to a different one?”

But Sanjay and Sasha seemed quite intrigued by what was already before them. “We want you to read this one,” Sasha demanded, pointed at the page. The other kids nodded along with her.

Meanwhile, the god had been hunched over, looking quite uncomfortable by the situation he was in. “Can’t you just tell us what it’s about?,” Jane asked. “Yeah! But without spoiling anything!,” Julio added.

A few more grumbles under his breath, and Xibalba sighed. “Fine – fine.” He came closer to the podium, leaning over to look at the page momentarily before looking away with a pained expression. “It’s a story that involves the gods – me, La Muerte, and my family most of all.”

The kids looked up at him in awe – he had a family? That sentence just seemed to make them more intrigued. “It does take place when Manolo and his friends were alive – about two years after the wager.” He paused, crossing his arms. “It has a lot of… fighting in it. And there’s some pretty dark stuff I’m sure you couldn’t handle.”

The room was filled with silence – the god turned to smile down triumphantly at them, hoping he scared them off, but his smile immediately disappeared as he saw delighted grins on their faces. “You should tell us that one,” Sanjay said, sitting down on the floor. The rest of the group followed in pursuit.

Another pained glance at the book, and another sigh. “Alright – but it’s not something I like to reflect back on.” He turned to the book, skimming over the words slightly before opening his mouth to speak.

“Wait!” The god glared at Sasha as she interrupted, and she looked sheepishly up at him. “Sorry… But can you tell us what the name is? I don’t know what ‘Flos Moriens’ means.”

Xibalba sniffed, and uncrossed his arms. “It means Dying Flower. Now please – can you be quiet? It’s already hard enough to read something that has me doing something stupid in it…”

And off he began. “This story did not begin in San Angel, not even the time when Manolo and his friends were alive. This story began thousands of years ago, when I first met the love of my life.”


	2. Chapter 1

“Really Xibalba – I don’t see why we have to go to this stupid event. The living are useless creatures – we don’t need to visit them!”

A young god had appeared on top of a large statue – a memorial they called it. An older god – his brother – appeared right by his side. The older god had wings while the other did not – his feathers ruffled in the breeze.

“Aw, don’t be such a sour sport Metuculosus,” the younger god laughed. “Dad said we could come up to the surface tonight – it’s my first time on the surface! I wanna check it out!”

Metuculosus crossed his arms and let out a huff – he flapped his wings once and looked around. “There’s nothing to do except pick on them,” he hissed. Xibalba grinned. “That’s what I was planning on doing!”

The older brother smiled a bit, following Xibalba in pursuit as the headed over to a grave surrounded by people. “Why don’t we pick ‘em off,” Metuculosus grinned. “They don’t deserve to live anyway…” Spindly fingers reached towards the nearest mortal’s head, but Xibalba yanked him away with a gasp.

“Metu! You can’t do that! They haven’t done anything wrong!” The eldest shoved his brother out of the way, causing him to fall to the ground.

“You’re pitiful, you know that?,” Metu suddenly snapped. “I know what you’re trying to do – be better than me or Dad. But it isn’t gonna happen. The great Saevis knows you aren’t evil enough. You’re just my brother, not my friend.” He turned away from Xibalba. “I thought you were finally getting darker, _hermanito…”_

A sniff came from the younger of the two – Metu sneered. “I’m going to go have some real fun. You do whatever, mortal loving scum.” The older brother disappeared, leaving Xibalba to stand before the grave, baffled. That was all quite sudden.  
  
“Man - ” Xibalba pushed himself off of the ground, wiping dust off of his body and rubbing his head. He just wanted to play a few pranks – not kill people!

That’s when he heard it – a light, airy laugh from behind the memorial. It sounded so… pretty. The god slithered over to the corner, peering around the edge to stare at the scene before him.

A beautiful goddess stood beside a grave. She had on a gorgeous red gown – candles lit on the fabric that flowed onto the ground. She had a crown of marigolds in her long, ever-flowing black hair. Her skin sparkled in the moonlight. She was quite gorgeous.

She watched as two small children were playing games in the dirt – their parents paying their respects. The kids were too little to know what was going on.

_Disgusting. Can’t she see that those things are evil?_ Xibalba’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t help but smile, despite his opinions.

A ball rolled toward the goddess, and she bent over to pick it up. A small shimmer, and she was visible to the children.

_Why would she do that? You can’t show yourself to mortals!_ The god smirked to himself. Now she’d see that the kids weren’t her friends.

But the reaction they gave was the complete opposite of what he was expecting. The young mortals squealed in delight, rushing up to her. The goddess chuckled softly. “Here you go little ones,” she murmured, handing the ball to them. They looked up at her, and one of the two laughed. “Thanks pretty lady!” They then rushed away and continued to play.

Then the goddess was gone. Xibalba watched as she disappeared in a flurry of marigold petals and stood on top of the bell tower. He felt a strange urge – he had to follow her.

A few jerky lines of tar flew through the air; the goddess saw the movement out of the corner of her eye, and frowned in confusion. “What on earth…?” She then whirled around at the light _‘oof’_ behind her, and began to laugh.

Xibalba had run into one of the tower’s columns – he was rubbing his face as embarrassment caused his candles to grow just a bit brighter. He hadn’t had a lot of practice, teleporting about. His father’s land was mostly one giant space.

“It’s not that funny,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back on the column. Another laugh from the goddess just showed, that apparently, it was.

“I’m sorry,” she snickered. “I just can’t help it – I’ve never met a god who doesn’t know how to teleport straight.”

Xibalba looked up, and his annoyed glare instantly disappeared at the warm smile on her lips. It was hard to believe that someone was smiling at him – to him, in genuine kindness.

“I’m La Muerte,” the goddess grinned, bowing to her new acquaintance slightly before straightening herself. “It’s nice to finally meet another god…”

He found it hard to find words – they were there, in the back of his throat, but he just couldn’t vocalize them. Up close, she was even prettier and more regal than before. The smile on her face was pure, and he found himself sheepishly grinning up at her with no thought about it.

“I guess,” he said, mirroring her movements and bowing to her as well. “I’m Xibalba. Son of Saevis.” He looked down at the bright little town, eyes drawn to the festivities and lights.

“Oh – he’s the god that rules the Land Of The Forgotten, right?” Xibalba’s attention snapped back to La Muerte, and he nodded.

“Do your parents rule the Land Of The Remembered?,” he asked, recalling the time he read a book about the other realms and their rulers.

The goddess frowned and shook her head. “I have no parents – at least, I don’t think I do. I rule the Land Of The Remembered alone.” A gasp from the other.

“You have to rule a whole realm?” The god looked at her, surprised. She was quite young – a few hundred years younger than him, by the looks of it. It was hard to believe that a goddess so young was in control of a kingdom.

She laughed. “Yeah – I would say it’s hard, but when you enjoy something you’ve done your whole life as much as I do…” La Muerte looked out upon the mortals – a kind, soft smile shining down upon them. “It’s hard to think of a life without it.”

At the way she looked at the mortals, Xibalba couldn’t help but snort. That caused her burning hot gaze to turn back to him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Did I say something funny?,” she asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Oh – it was nothing,” the god said quickly, hoping not to offend her in any way. But as soon as the words left his mouth, her hands were on her hips and her brows were arched.

“What was it? Please tell me – I want to know if I did anything wrong…”

Xibalba laughed once more. “You didn’t do anything wrong, per say; I just find it odd that you like the mortals so much.” He huffed, and looked down upon the cemetery. “I don’t like them all too much – they’re quite evil, if I do say so myself.”

La Muerte blinked, as though to make sure she heard him correctly, and shook her head lightly. “Wait – you think the mortals are bad?” She looked out to the beloved memorials, shrines: the candles, flowers, and gifts. “They deserve our blessing – they pay us so much respect… And they are so respectful to the souls of their deceased.”

The god opened his mouth to talk back. He wanted to tell her he was wrong, but he paused to think. She was right, in a way. Everyone had their opinion, right? He wasn’t in the mood to fight with anyone else though…

“Aren’t you going to disagree with me?” He looked up to see an expectant look in La Muerte’s eyes. “I mean – I know that you think just the opposite.”

He shook his head. “Nah – I think I’m good. I’ve already had a fight tonight – I don’t want to get into another one, especially with a beauty such as yourself.” His eyes grew wide as he realized what he had said, flames growing in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to apologize, but froze.

La Muerte’s cheeks grew bright red, and her gaze instantly flickered down to the floor. She busied herself with a wandering strand of hair – plucking at it and twirling it and letting it bounce back.

There was now an awkward silence between the two, but it had to be broken. Somehow. He wouldn’t let a small little comment like that ruin such a nice conversation.

“Well it was a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” Xibalba murmured, bowing to her. “But my dad expects me home before the sun begins to rise.” He shot her a small smile – a cocky look in his eyes.

The goddess’ head was bent slightly, to hid the fact that she was profusely blushing. “Yes – it was quite a pleasure indeed.” She looked up as Xibalba turned to leave, and bit her lip.

“Wait.” He turned back to her – what on earth did she want now? “When can I see you again?”

He felt his heart stop. She enjoyed his company?

“Um… I don’t know when,” he replied, brows furrowed. “I’m not sure if my dad would let me come back up to the surface anytime soon… he’s not very lenient about these things…”

La Muerte laughed, and he felt his heart flutter. That laugh got to him like nothing else – and he had no idea why. I was quite weird. He hated it.

“How about I come visit you?,” she asked. “I’ve been to your land before, for important business.” She smiled. “There’s a bridge near the castle I think – how about I meet you there next month?”

He felt a big, goofy grin appear on his face. His heart continued to flutter. “That’s amazing – I mean, I’d love that!” The goddess nodded.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you sometime soon!” A small wave from a dainty hand. “But for now, I have some mortals I have to check up on.”

With a flash of golden light and a shower of marigold petals, she was gone, and back to floating through the cemetery – giving her blessings to the people.

He stood there in slight shock, unsure of everything that had happened. He had just met another goddess, and he had been friendly towards her. He was never friendly towards anyone.

“Next month – I have to write that down,” he whispered to himself, turning into a line of tar and disappearing into the starry night sky.


	3. Chapter 2

The next month had gone by quite hurriedly – and just as soon as the night for the two gods fell upon the earth, it was over.  
Months apart turned into weeks apart. In no time at all, they were visiting each other’s realms weekly – it was a habit.

They loved each other’s company – especially Xibalba. He loved having someone to talk to and laugh with. He adored having someone to smile at him and giggle at his stupid jokes.

It was weird at first – being cared about. Some days, when his father had punished him for doing something wrong, La Muerte would be the first to ask _‘Are you alright?’._

She was the first to hug him – the first to be worried about him. He was the first she truly cared about. He was the one she felt her heart flutter around.

Xibalba felt very unhappy whenever he couldn’t find her bright colors anywhere. It was hard to last just a few days without her smile.

Maybe the depressive vibes from the Forgotten were finally getting to him.

He stared up into the cloudy sky, his bottom half hanging over the bridge’s edge. He wondered if the sun would ever shine in his realm – he wondered if it ever had.

His feet tapped against the stony resting place. Pieces of rock fell from the bridge and splashed into the murky water beneath him, and he sighed as he watched the ripples fade away. 

“You seem rather thoughtful today,” a sweet voice said. His head turned to face the goddess, and he smiled over at her.

“I guess there’s just a lot to think about,” he muttered, kicking his feet out into the open air. La Muerte slung herself over the bridge’s edge – within moments she was sitting right by his side, a few marigolds falling down into the water.

Xibalba stared at them as they floated there, but jerked slightly as he felt his companion’s hand on his shoulder. 

“So then… what are you thinking about?,” she asked, and he lifted his head to meet her lovely, golden gaze. “I’d like to know ~ ”

That always made him just a little bit happier; that someone actually wanted to know what was on his mind. He pondered for a moment, then shrugged.

“I was just wondering what it would be like to run away…” His eyes flickered away from her gaze for a moment, wondering whether she’d make a big deal out of it. He didn’t want her to.

Dainty fingers rested under his chin and tipped it up, and he found himself face to face with a small grin.

“I understand,” the goddess smiled. “I wish I could sometimes too… Just run away, somewhere far away, and never have to worry about anything ever again.” A chuckle escaped her lips, and then all was silent.

The god was left pondering as to why she would want to run away. He had a horrible father and a distasteful brother – they didn’t like him and regretted him ever being created. He was a disgrace to the family. Why would she want to leave?

“Why?,” he asked, finding that his thoughts came aloud. La Muerte shrugged, and her smile slowly disappeared.

“Probably to get away from my past,” she murmured. “To get away from my sister… to not have the burden of a kingdom on my shoulders when I am still so young with so many things I must experience in order to rule it correctly.” She sighed. 

He immediately understood. He had thought her life was perfect. But, even the people that were seen perfect had something wrong in their lives.

“Hey,” Xibalba murmured, looking down at her hand. It lay on the stone beside him, and he couldn’t help but reach out and place his hand over hers.

She looked up at him with a small gasp – the way her eyes sparkled made him grin.

“I wanted to give you something. A token of my gratitude for being a nice friend.” His free hand lifted up into the air, and his fingers snapped. A gorgeous golden locket hovered above his fingertips, silky black fabric floating in the breeze.

La Muerte gasped. “Oh Xibalba…,” she whispered, causing him to shiver. “You didn’t have to get me that - ”

Xibalba smirked. “Oh, but I had to. Here.” He laid it in her outstretched palm, and she stared at it for a moment before smiling.

Her hand slipped out from under his, reaching up to try and tie the gift around her neck. However, her fingers couldn’t find the clasp, and she hummed in frustration.

“Allow me,” the god murmured, reaching to take the locket from her into his own hands. Their eyes met for a split second, but she looked away quickly.

She turned her back to him, and used her hand to pull her long hair away, revealing her neck to him so that he could put it on.

He moved a little closer, and reached around her neck. Spindly fingers moved swiftly, putting the clasps together, and he then moved away.

“It’s so… beautiful.” He looked over to see La Muerte’s touching the intricately carved gold with her fingers.

“Just like his wearer,” he chuckled, watching as his comment brought color to the goddess’ cheeks.

She turned to face him, taking his hands in hers, a few tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she smiled. “You’re so nice Xibalba. Nicer than you think you truly are.”

La Muerte looked out into the horizon, and sighed. “I must go. Our time together has come to the end.” He felt his heart flutter as she continued to grin over at him. “See you next week.”

She then leaned over to leave a small kiss on his cheek, chuckling a little before disappearing in a flurry of golden petals.

Xibalba just sat there, mouth agape. He watched as the petals disappeared, a goofy grin filling his expression.

“She kissed me…” he murmured, staring out into the open with wide eyes. “She – she kissed me!”

He felt like he could fly. His heart was beating at a mile a minute. He was so happy – happier than he had ever been before.

“I see you’ve managed to charm that gorgeous red beauty.” His head snapped around to face his brother, who was now slithering up the bridge towards him. Metu’s wings were spread halfway in amusement, an evil glare in his eyes as he grinned.

“What do you want now Metu?,” Xibalba sneered. He crossed his arms and sniffed once before turning away from him.

“I just wanted to make sure my suspicions were true, that’s all… That you were actually turning into a softy.” The younger god gasped _– how dare he!_

“My heart is only soft for her,” he grumbled, taking a moment to realizing what he had said. His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. Did he just, in a way, say he loved her?

Metu chuckled darkly. “Aw… Looks like my poor little _hermano_ is in love. Such a terrible, poisonous thing love is – I can’t believe you actually gave in to her charms.”

Xibalba groaned. “Well at least I have someone who cares about me,” he muttered.

Metu’s glare instantly grew darker, and he took a step towards Xibalba. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?,” he growled.

The younger god laughed a bit, and his brother couldn’t help but be confused. “It means that I actually have someone who likes me for me, unlike you, you piece of - ”

Metu lunged forward, grasping his brother’s neck. Anger caused his tar to steam and reek. “You say that to me one more time, and you’ll regret ever being created,” he spat.

He shoved Xibalba off the bridge’s edge quite forcefully, watching as he tumbled through the air into the oily water below.

Xibalba surfaced, coughing and sputtering. “Guess you’ll be late for dinner,” Metu smirked. “Father certainly won’t be pleased at all…” In a flash of green light, Metu disappeared, leaving Xibalba to crawl to shore.

 

“I was gonna say this was too lovey dovey for me, but then Metu came in and _wham!”_

Xibalba turned to stare down at Julio. “I thought I told you no interruptions,” he growled, crossing his arms. Sasha grinned.

“We know! We know! But… we’re kids! You can’t expect us to stay quiet the whole time.” As Sasha spoke, Sanjay and the others laughed. The god grumbled something to himself, and his eyes flickered down to Julio as he continued.

“You said there was a bunch of fighting and dark stuff! All we’ve seen so far is how in love you were with La Muerte.” All the other kids nodded, except for Sasha.

“Well I think it’s super cute,” she giggled. “It’s not every day a god tells you how he fell in love!” She drew out the last word for a moment, peeking up at Xibalba with playful eyes.

All he did was groan. “If you really must know why I’m telling you this… me falling in love with La Muerte is what started all the fighting. So if you want to hear the fighting part, then you’ll need to be quiet!”

Not a single sound could be heard after he finished speaking. “That’s better.” He turned back to the book, wings folded tightly against his back.

“Now – as I was going to say, Saevis wasn’t all too happy that I was late for dinner – just as Metuculosus said. Then again, he’s never happy… I came home soaking wet, only to get yelled at for hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Hey guys! Sorry I haven't been updating this. I did finish the story but I never got around the posting the chapters. I will be posting them daily now until the story is finished! I hope I still have a bunch of people following it heh heh :o}


	4. Chapter 3

Years flew by, and over time, it became almost unbearable to stay apart.

Xibalba began to sneak out of the house when all was quiet – he loved seeing La Muerte in her own home, her natural habitat. The bright, festive colors made him feel so joyous and free. He could see why she loved it there so much.

And, as the two deities grew, so did their feelings for one another.

Tonight, as the stars hung low in the sky, Xibalba felt a strange feeling. He felt like, for some reason, tonight would be different than the rest.

A flash of green light – he appeared under the Remembering Tree, tapping his foot as he waited for the goddess to arrive. He jumped as a flash of light appeared behind him, but whirled around to face La Muerte with a smile on his face.

“Hey Balby!,” the goddess smirked. Xibalba couldn’t help but chuckle as she used her nickname for him – they came up with nicknames for each other not too long ago. It made their friendship just a little bit more silly; more fun.

She rushed up to him to give him a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could make it – I thought your dad would keep you home: again… It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you.” Xibalba laughed.

“It’s only been a week La Muerte – but I see where you’re coming from… It’s pretty hard to stay away from me.” The goddess shoved him playfully, smiling all the while.

“Of course,” she murmured. “That’s exactly why.” She said it in a joking manner of course, but in a way, he was right. It was hard to stay away from him at times.

They talked deep into the night, sitting against the soft bark of the tree and sharing stories – they wanted to know all about the other; how their week went, whether anything interesting happened over the course of seven days, and anything else they could think of.

Xibalba mainly just listened. He’d watch her speak, animated movements lighting up the space around them. The sound of her voice was sweet and rustic, but it was soon blocked out as the god focused on her growing beauty.

Her eyes sparkled whenever she talked about something exciting – the candles on her outfit growing brighter as she laughed. He found himself having to look away every once in a while – she’d ask what was wrong if he stared at her for too long.

Then, she stopped talking, a smile stuck on her lips as she took a deep breath. “Interesting, right?”

The god instantly nodded – to be honest with himself, he had no idea what she had been talking about. But he couldn’t tell her that.

“La Muerte…” As soon as her name left his mouth, he regretted speaking. Her gaze met his, and he found it hard to speak. His body felt heated, as if he was nervous. What he couldn’t understand was why.

“Yes?” He blinked. Oh, why did she have to be so cute? That look she was giving him was just begging for him to tell her what was on his mind.

“I…” A pause. How would he word this? Xibalba opened his mouth to speak, hoping he’d find the words along the way, but froze.

Instead of speaking, he leaned in close to her. Her eyes were growing wide, and she was ready to make the act of moving away, but just couldn’t do it. Her body was tense – she couldn’t move.

His lips rested upon hers for a moment – he then realized what a horrible mistake he made and began to draw back, only to have a small hand grasp his wrist and sugary lips kiss him back.

The world seemed to slow to a halt around them. His arms slowly began to wrap around her petite waist, her hands holding onto his shoulder plates. Their eyes had closed, and they just savored the moment.

Then, as soon as it had begun, they pulled apart. Both the gods were slightly breathless – arms still around each other and their faces just inches away.

“La Muerte,” Xibalba whispered, looking deep into her eyes. They were so lovely – beautiful, golden suns that were shining right upon him. “I think… I think I love you.”

The goddess was silent for a moment, and Xibalba thought he had said something wrong. But suddenly, her smile returned. “You goofball,” she smirked. “I think I love you too.”

His heart soared, and he couldn’t help but laugh in glee. La Muerte joined in, resting her forehead against his.

His life couldn’t be more perfect – this changed everything. He hated being mistreated since birth, having no one to love him, losing all hope from the start. It was so awful. But now, everything that made his life a living hell had vanished from his mind when he saw the way she looked at him.

For hours afterward, they lay under the shade of the great tree – silent, and holding one another. The Land of The Remembered seemed brighter and more colorful – the spirits could tell that their leader was happier than ever before.

And she was. She never thought she would come to love someone such as Xibalba. She never thought she would come to love anyone at all for that matter. Her sister had found love ages ago, with an old rival of hers. And now – she had the chance to understand what it felt like.

She peered up at the smiling god to see glorious red eyes staring up at the sky – the passion he felt for her was tangible. It filled the air around them. She couldn’t help but yawn and scoot a little closer to the god.

Her eyes closed as she began to rest. His eyes flickered down to watch her as she slept.

 

More years passed by, and the lovers found it hard to keep their emotions a secret. Metuculosus had started to tease Xibalba – torment him about how love would ruin his chances at ever being successful.

Xibalba didn’t mind. As long as he had her, he was happy. He didn’t need the crown – it would just get in the way.

As Metuculosus conspired behind his younger brother’s back, Xibalba was determined to take a stand and prove to Saevis that he was more than just a pitiful ball of tar.

The grand doorway opened – a terrifying, slimy creature sat upon a throne in the middle of the room. “Don’t be scared,” Xibalba whispered, grasping La Muerte’s hand and pulling her through the doorway.

The goddess huffed. “I’m not scared. It’s just…” It was Saevis. He was known as one of the most ruthless and merciless gods that ruled in the Land Of The Dead. It was hard not to be scared of him.

“Father,” Xibalba called out bowing to the greater god for a moment before bringing La Muerte to his side. “I brought you someone I would like you to meet – we have some important news to share with you.”

The god’s blackened, hollowed eyes flickered to look at them. He sneered and stood – his body seemed to be made of poison. It oozed down his body onto the floor – his wings dripped with it. His head and arms were blackened bone – as if they were burned.

“Who is this little _muñeca_ you’ve brought?,” he muttered. His voice sounded like bubbling lava – he had a small hiss at the end of each word. Xibalba gulped, but stepped forward.

“This is La Muerte,” he said confidently. “Ruler of the Remembered.” La Muerte peered up at the god with worry in her eyes – he was certainly more terrifying in real life than what was in her books.

Saevis laughed – it was a sound that resembled nails running down a chalkboard. He flapped his wings once, and shook his head. “No wonder – I could feel the purity in her heart from here.” He stared at her in disgust, and she shrunk back a bit.

“Anyway – what was it you said earlier?,” the god muttered, looking quite uninterested. “Something about important news?”

Xibalba nodded, and held the goddess’ hand tightly in his. “Yes. La Muerte and I have been seeing each other for quite some time.” Saevis’ brow rose as he spoke. “And, now, she is willing to be my bride.” 

The room was silent – Saevis stood there, looking genuinely confused for a moment before slithering forward. 

“And you did this without my permission?” At the look on his father’s face, Xibalba shrunk back in shame. “How dare you – ungrateful - ” Saevis prepared to lash out at his son, only to stumble back as La Muerte appeared before him.

“Don’t speak to Xibalba like that,” she spat. Xibalba watched with fear in his eyes, shaking his head continuously as his gaze continued to flicker between his fiancé and his father.

Saevis laughed, bending over to come face to face with the goddess. “Oh… You remind me so much of my wife,” he smirked. “So protective and sweet – it _sickens_ me.” Long, spindly fingers came up to grasp her chin, and she looked up at him in horror.

“You better shut your mouth girl,” he growled. “I’m sure my son has told you what happens to people that defy my power.” He shoved her away, and she fell into Xibalba’s arms. He held her close – she was shaking furiously.

“This was an awful idea,” she gasped. “I’m leaving.” Before he could say no, La Muerte had disappeared in a flurry of marigold petals.   
Silence filled the room once more; Saevis turned away to head back to his throne, but froze as Xibalba spoke up.

“You’re horrible! Why do you have to shut down everything I say!? I’m marrying La Muerte and you aren’t going to stop me.”

The older god turned back around again, arms held behind his back as his body shook with anger. “You are not getting married to that _mujer_ ,” he smirked. His son opened his mouth to ask how he was planning to stop him, when Saevis continued. “Because… you are getting the crown.”

Xibalba’s eyes widened. That couldn’t be true. “But Father - ” He was brutally interrupted as an inhuman screech came from the doorway. 

Metuculosus stood there, looked absolutely enraged with what Saevis had just said. “No way!,” he cried, bursting in and marching forward at an alarming speed. “You aren’t giving the throne to this…” He looked over at Xibalba in pure disgust. “This - _disgrace!”_

For once, Xibalba agreed. He had never trained the way his brother did – he had no idea how to rule a kingdom, and never wanted to in the first place.

“I’m the first born – I am the rightful heir to the throne! I deserve this more than he ever did!” Saevis chuckled, watching as Metu continued to rampage on about how unfair it was.

“I’m sorry my dear boy,” he laughed. “But I’ve made my decision.” A snap, and Metuculosus screamed in a sudden bout of pain. His wings were melting – receding into his back as burning hot tar dripped down his body. He bent over, kneeling onto the ground, and panted to try and keep the pain at bay.

“You’ll get your wings at your ceremony,” Saevis muttered to Xibalba. “That is all – you are free to leave.” He turned so that his back faced his two sons – heading back to his throne in a slow stride.

Metu shakily stood, whimpering as he did so. For a moment he stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. He then shot a poisonous glare at his younger brother before disappearing into thin air.

Xibalba just stood there in shock. He had come here, quite prepared for the torment his father would rain down upon him at the slightest mention of marriage – only to be told something he never expected.

A flash of green light – he was outside, on the bridge, breathing heavily. His hands rested on the stone before him, and he bent over, eyes closed. Panic was setting in – his thoughts were jumbled pictures that flashed in his mind. He then jumped violently as a hand rested on his shoulder.

He whirled around, prepared to attack his brother, or his father, only to be greeted by a worried expression and frightened golden eyes.

“Xibalba?” Her voice sounded soft and quiet, hesitant even. He took a few moments to soak in her presence, and then leaped forward – he buried his head in her shoulder, and began to shake.

“Xibalba? What’s wrong?” Her hands came to wrap around him, holding him closer as she rested her chin on his shoulder plate. “You can tell me…” She was afraid the worst had happened – that Saevis had actually punished Xibalba for bringing her into his domain.

“I’m getting the crown,” he moaned, forcing himself to pull away – head hung low. La Muerte looked confused for a moment, as though trying to process what had happened.

She blinked, and a small smile grew on her lips. “Really?” Xibalba nodded solemnly, and reluctantly let the goddess tilt his head up to face her. “Why is that such a bad thing?”

His eyes widened in shock – if anything, he had expected her to be upset. “I’ll – I’ll have new responsibilities! I won’t have time for a relationship. We won’t be able to get married, and - ” 

He stopped speaking as her fingertips rested upon his lips. La Muerte chuckled, gaze warm as she looked over at him. “And who says we can’t get married?,” she asked. “I love you, and you love me. I don’t see any reason as to why we can’t work things out.”

Xibalba paused for a moment, realizing that she was right. He was just overreacting. “But the coronation will be soon,” he muttered, knowing that his father would do anything to ruin his plans.

La Muerte took his hands in hers, and leaned in close. “Let’s get married now then!,” she smiled. “We could go to an abandoned church on the surface – the only person that will come will be the Candle Maker.”

The god looked up at her with wide eyes, but couldn’t deny the quickened pace of his heart at her idea. She waited for his response, hoping she wasn’t pushing things too far, and found herself smiling once again as he nodded his head.

“Now,” he murmured, kissing her lightly. “Now would be perfect.”

And a few hours later – they did just that. The Candle Maker watched in bliss as they enjoyed the night; the three friends danced and drank to their hearts’ content. The night was peaceful – all was good.

In another realm, Metuculosus was sitting in his windowsill, plotting of a way to disrupt his brother’s happiness. He had no idea what to do – his brain racked for ideas as he stared up into the cloudy sky.

Then it hit him. His brother had two weaknesses – wagers, and her. A sly smile snuck onto his lips as he thought of a way to combine to two into his secret weapon.


	5. Chapter 4

Before either of the gods knew it, the time had come for Saevis to pass down the throne to his son. 

At the yearly meeting, where all the gods got together to speak civil matters, all were shocked to hear that Metuculosus was not to receive the throne.

The gods were happy though. Metuculosus was a very dangerous deity. Power would get to his head too easily, and all realms would suffer if he took it all too far.

Metu was still absolutely furious at his brother for stealing his throne, fame, and glory. He believed that Xibalba didn’t deserve it - why was his life suddenly perfect? He didn’t deserve any of it!

Standing before the giant stone doors, Xibalba shook in fear. All of the deities from far and wide would be there, and the pressure of having all eyes on him was unbearable.

He wasn’t used to being treated well; it was all quite sudden, and he really didn’t like it.

Soft hands came up to rub his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but melt slightly at the touch. “Thank you mi amor,” he murmured, turning to face his wife.

She smiled and placed her hands on his cheeks. “You’ll do fine,” she chuckled, leaning forward to give him a small kiss. 

He savored it for the few seconds it lasted, and when she pulled away he found that he had stopped shaking. She sure knew how to calm him down.

“Ay _Balby,"_ she smiled, arms slipping around his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “This is a great occasion! It’s not every day you get to become king. You should be excited!”

Xibalba nodded, but bit his lip. there was one thing on his mind that he couldn’t get rid of - one haunting thought that had been pestering him for months.

“Don’t worry - ” He looked up to see la Muerte giving him a stern nod. “He won’t come in. We have guards posted all around.”

Over the past couple of months, Metuculosus had grown more murderous and horrid. He had tried to steal and get away with keeping the obsidian dagger - the one weapon that could kill gods. He had taken it and tried to slaughter his brother in his sleep.

It was locked up in a safe right after - metu was sent to the dungeons for a month. “It’s so that he’ll think of his actions,” Saevis had said. Xibalba wasn’t shocked at how lenient his father was with Metu. His older brother was always that favorite after all.

“They’re ready for you.” The two gods jumped slightly as a goddess appeared in the doorway. “Thank you Ignis,” La Muerte replied, nodding in gratitude. The fire goddess left, and Xibalba took a deep breath.

“I love you Xibalba,” she whispered, resting her lips on his forehead. “Good luck.” She disappeared in a shower of marigold petals, and the doors slowly began to open.

Xibalba made his way down the aisle, sneaking glances at the other gods along the way. La Muerte was off smiling in the distance, but Saevis didn’t look all too happy.

Saevis stood on a platform in front of the crowd, gesturing to the spot before him. Xibalba took his place there, and waited.

“Xibalba - my youngest son. I give to you a blessing and a burden. Take it seriously, and don’t be afraid to fight the keep it.” His eyes scanned over the crowd before continuing. 

“I pray that your reign will be long and prosperous, and hope that you live in happiness.” A few murmurs rippled through the crowd - Saevis wasn’t usually one to wish something in happiness.

“I call to the ancestors created before me! Let his name be known throughout history and life itself!”

He lifted the crown off of his head and left it hovering over his son’s. “I, Lord Saevis, resign my duties and relinquish my position and realm to you my son. May you rule well, and live up to the expectations set before you.”

The crown was placed onto the god’s head, and as soon as it touched, he felt a slight burning sensation in his back. Gorgeous, luminous wings sprouted from his back - they were spread wide, as if to show the new pride Xibalba felt in his heart.

“I bow to thee, new king of the Forgotten. Long may you reign, Lord Xibalba!”

The gods stood and began to clap – most were joyous. Saevis slithered off of the podium with disgust on his face, his wings slightly ruffled in revulsion.

Xibalba turned to face the crowd, smiling. He was absolutely thrilled with the prospect of a new life – one without his father, without his brother, and with her.

Everyone was happy, and it seemed like everything was perfect; like nothing could go wrong. A sigh escaped his lips, and he prepared to step off the podium when the doors swung open violently.

“You’ll regret the day you were born, _scum!”_ The crowd turned to face the doorway, gasping in shock.

Metuculosus was standing in the doorway, eyes lit with fire and chest heaving as he breathed quite heavily. He looked disheveled and disoriented, but an evil grin lit his face with determination.

“You aren’t welcome here Metu!” His burning gaze flickered to look at La Muerte – the goddess had moved forward to stand in front of Xibalba, as if to shield him.

“The god sneered, slithering forward. “Oh no – I thought I was invited to my _hermanito’s_ coronation, but it seemed that the invitation just never made it.” 

A laugh echoed around the room – Metu had hunched over slightly as he did so. “But, here I am, in the flesh! I just had to come; I brought a gift for our new, beloved king.”

Uncertain glances passed through the other gods – Saevis lurked behind them all, a small smile on his face from pleasure.

La Muerte opened her mouth to speak, but Xibalba laid a hand on her shoulder, pushed past her and raised his voice. “And what exactly is your so-called gift?,” he asked.

Metu grinned, bowing to the new king in slight mockery. “Oh my dear brother – I have brought you the greatest of all gifts. I offer you – a wager.”

Xibalba’s expression instantly grew curious. His body had frozen, hands clamped at his sides.

“A wager?,” he echoed, voice intrigued. “Go ahead Metu; what is your proposal for your wager?” La Muerte still stood behind him, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Xibalba hushed her once more. He wouldn’t back down from a wager – especially from his cursed brother.

“It’s quite simple,” Metu laughed. “I bet that in the next couple thousand years, you will be forced out of the throne…” 

A smirk crawled onto his lips. “It may be caused by just sheer pressure, your worst fear, or something else…” An innocent look appeared in his eyes. “Not me, of course…”

His voice was sly, but Xibalba didn’t seem to notice it. He nodded for his brother to go on, holding a steely gaze and biting his tongue to refrain from intervening. 

“Since obviously no one knows what the future holds, you will be unknowing of what will happen.” The new king listened to Metu’s words carefully, and took a moment to think. This wager was quite unsettling, and possibly very dangerous, but he had to press on.

“And what are the stakes?,” he questioned. “If I lose, what happens?” No answer. “Tell me Metu, or this discussion is over.”

A toothy grin. “If you lose, dear brother, the crown will be mine. You will be sent to the most horrible dungeon in the Land Of The Cursed, stripped of your powers, and forced to rot away in agonizing pain.”

Xibalba’s eyes narrowed. “And if you lose, you will be sent somewhere no being will ever be able to see you again. You will be shamed by all, and your honor will be stripped from you forever. You will be known as the god who lost everything.”

La Muerte sniffed. “Xibalba – this isn’t wise. He may be tricking you! How else would he know that you’ll have to face something like your worst fear?”

Metu laughed. “Ah, my dear… You were always so insightful.” The god dissipated into a shadow, moving along the floor to reappear at her side. “You see – what I mean by worst fear is this; every king has to face a tough ordeal at some point in their lives. I believe that my brother is weak - ” His brow raised.

“If he has to go through a tough ordeal, he’ll resign. I’m sure of it.” He stopped talking then – the whole room was silent. La Muerte took a step away from Metu, and glanced between the two brothers in slight discomfort. Xibalba was thinking… Then he nodded.

“Fine then. I agree with your terms.” A few deities gasped in shock and mumbled amongst themselves. Metu’s sly grin only grew larger.

“Okay!,” he roared, holding out a hand. “Then by the Ancient Rules…” Xibalba took his hand, and they shook. “The wager is set.”


	6. Chapter 5

“So what you’re trying to tell us is that because of that weird bet you two made, it changed the course of the gods’ whole future?”

Xibalba’s eyes flickered down to look at Sanjay, slight irritation causing his lip to twitch. “Yes. I told you that before we started - what I did in the beginning was pretty stupid of me…”

A pause. Sasha rocked back and forth slightly, thinking. She was gnawing on her lip momentarily, and then her brows furrowed in confusion. “But how would something between the two of you change everything?,” she asked. “It doesn’t make sense…”

The god sniffed, feathers ruffling as his irritation grew. “Maybe you would find out if you didn’t keep interrupting me,” he grumbled.  
The kids grew silent. A triumphant smile lit Xibalba’s face, and a sigh left his lips. “Thank you,” he groaned, turning back to the book and flipping to the next page.

“Now… Where was I?” His eyes skimmed the pages before him, hands folding behind his back as he did so. “Ah yes…”

As he continued to speak, the group watched in awe. They had scooted a little closer, legs crossed and hands in their laps. Their eyes were wide, and they seemed quite excited.

Xibalba found himself smiling all the while. Maybe being a tour guide wasn’t as horrible as he thought it was. Kids weren’t so bad.

“La Muerte and I worried about Metu for years on end. We had him locked up for the time being of course – he was still a threat to everyone, and we didn’t want him getting out. But even with the reassurance of him being put away, the unbearable tension of what was to come took a long time to go away…”

 

A noise. He could’ve sworn he heard a loud creak come from downstairs. The god dashed up into a sitting position, breathing quietly as his eyes frantically scanned the room.

A ruffle of the covers – he slid them off his body and placed his feet onto the floor. He stretched slightly, preparing to stand; his shoulders were hunched with unease.

The sound of a stifled yawn caused him to flinch, and he looked over to his wife’s golden gaze blinking groggily up at him.  
“And just where do you think you’re going?,” she mumbled, snuggling up against the closest pillow and yawning a little. “It isn’t dawn yet my love…”

Xibalba’s gaze flickered between the doorway and his wife – a hand stretched over to brush some stray stands of hair from her face. “I thought I heard a noise,” he murmured. “I’m going to go check it out.”

La Muerte smirked. “I bet you it’s nothing Xibalba,” she smirked, yawning again. “I’ll see you when you come back - ” Her eyes closed and she adjusted herself slightly before her breathing slowed once more.

The god scoffed; of course she wouldn’t be worried. The fright from Metu’s encounter dissipated from her mind ages ago – he on the other hand, still felt quite uncomfortable about it all.

Nonetheless, the ruler stood, making his way over to the doorway and pushing the door open. Red eyes peered out into the stairway, and he slithered forward a few more feet before scanning over the large throne room.

There lay the tables, his wife’s throne, the decorations; nothing seemed out of place. The shadows on the walls did give off an eerie feel – a small inspection wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He moved swiftly down the staircase, checking every nook and cranny of the room for a sign of movement. “Come out,” he growled, unease causing his spine to prickle.

There was no response. He felt his wings slowly fold against his back and his body loosen up. Maybe she was right… I’m just overreacting again.

This wasn’t the first time he had heard something. La Muerte always told him that it was an old castle, that houses always creak, that when you’re sleeping you can’t be sure of what you hear… He always sneered at those ideas.

But now he was beginning to believe her. A sigh of defeat left his lips, and he slowly made his way back upstairs. Collapsing onto the bed, he stared up at the ceiling in dismay.

“Did you find anything?” Xibalba jumped as his wife spoke once more. Her eyes were still closed, yet her body was facing him.

Another sigh – “No…,” he muttered. “It was nothing.” Soft hands came up to wrap around him, and he chuckled softly as La Muerte pulled herself closer to him. His arm came around to hold the goddess against him, and his free hand twirled her raven hair in his spindly fingers.

“I know you don’t like it when I say this,” she whispered. Her eyes cracked open a sliver to peer up at him. “But I told you so.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes and chuckle to himself at the small smirk on his wife’s face. “Yes my dear – indeed you did.” 

Holding her close, he let the sudden, new silence engulf their embrace. His discomfort was slowly melting away at the feeling of her warm body against his. “Can you try to get some sleep now?,” he heard her mumble, voice muffled through being buried in his shoulder.

Xibalba nodded. “Yes – good night _mi dulce,_ ” he murmured, closing his eyes. A small chuckle came from the goddess at the nickname.

No response came from either of the gods after that – her breathing had slowed as she fell back asleep in his arms, and he found that he was slipping into a dreamy state as well.

The pair then slept, unaware of the ominous shadow that was now disappearing into the night.

 

Days and nights flew by as the seasons began to change. Hot weather and heavy droughts that plagued the surface were now turning into drizzly weather; piles of scattered leaves filled the streets as a cold wind blew them around endlessly.

November second was quickly approaching – the people of San Angel prepared for the Day of the Dead’s return, and with it, the blessings of the gods.

Being just a few days away from the beloved holiday, La Muerte began to wander the streets in wonder. She loved to watch them prepare and get ready to pay their tributes, and it always gave her glee to see how involved they would get.

Children and their parents baked pan de muerto, the smell of fresh bread floating in the breeze. The goddess floated down the street, smiling as a few young ones played games.

The sun was just beginning to set, a few glowing stars appearing in the sky like droplets of white paint. A cold gust of wind blew through the square, and from it formed a beautiful woman dressed in a gown that seemed to be made of the night sky itself, as well as a gorgeous Aztec headpiece.

The woman’s sparkling golden eyes laid upon La Muerte, and a sly smile formed on her lips. “Ah! _Hermana!_ ” She glided forward, her dress billowing out behind her in a misty haze of shadows. “How wonderful it is to see you again!” She looked absolutely thrilled to see her sister.

La Muerte on the other hand, seemed less than pleased. A slight twinge of irritation nagged at her chest, and her smile quickly disappeared as the goddess hugged her.

“Yes… It’s good to see you too La Noche,” she muttered, arms pressed stiffly against her sides. A sigh of relief left her lips as her sister released her, and she quickly took a step back. 

“It’s been so long,” La Noche whined, a hand toying with the fabric of her gown. “How’s that hunk of a man you call your husband doing?”

La Muerte’s eye twitched in annoyance, her arms crossing as she glared over at her sister. “Xibalba is doing fine,” she spat. The night goddess scoffed, throwing her head back in a laugh. Her eyes gleamed, as if saying _‘yeah right’_.

A small, uncomfortable silence fell over the two, but it was quickly broken as La Noche draped an arm over her sister’s shoulder. “I heard a commotion went down at your _marido’s_ coronation – Metuculosus, right? Oh man… what a devilishly handsome god that one is… What’d he do?” 

La Muerte sniffed. She didn’t want to tell her – La Noche was one to spread rumors; but then again, most the gods knew of the wager by this point.

“He burst in like a madman and made a wager with Xibalba,” she said. “We didn’t know how he got out of his prison, but he just came in and claimed to have a gift for him…” A sigh. “Of course, as the idiot he is, he took the wager - ”

A snort came from the other goddess. “Oh man – I always knew Xibalba was one to fall for bets like that; but from Metuculosus – his sworn enemy? Was he even thinking straight?” 

As the goddess talked, all La Muerte could do was shrug and shake her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “He just had to keep his pride – he’s known for never backing away from a wager…”

La Noche laughed again, and when she did, the stars up above seemed to glow just a little bit brighter. “Gosh; I wish I was there to see it with my own eyes. Sounds like quite the event.”

She moved away from her sister and began to float down the street, shadows curling up behind her as she did so. “Metu’s pretty mad that he’s locked up,” she added, causing her sister to grow curious.

“What do you mean by that?,” La Muerte asked, following in hot pursuit. “Have you been visiting him?” A pause as her sister nodded. “Why would you do that? He’s dangerous!”

La Noche scoffed. “He’s not dangerous – I was seeing him before the whole ‘assassination attempt’ thing. He’s quite nice once you get to know him.” A gasp from the other.

“You were seeing him? As in romantically? Why? He’s such a horrible man - ” La Noche turned to her, holding a steely gaze as her hands lay clamped at her sides.

“Metu is amazing. He’s sly and charming, he isn’t afraid to speak what’s on his mind, and he knows how to take charge. He’s an honest man! And he can have a heart of gold once you really get to know him.”

La Muerte sniffed, turning away. “I can’t believe any of those things except for the fact that he’s sly,” she muttered. “Xibalba’s known him for years, and not once has he told me that Metu has a heart of gold.”

The night goddess snickered. “Well, duh. They’re siblings, are they not? When you grow older with a sibling by your side, you’re sure to have some rivalry.” A small, playful shove towards the other. “Like you and me, _hermana._ ”

A sugared hand came up to pluck at one of her marigolds – La Noche watched with bated breath. “I just feel like he’s no good for you; or anyone for that matter.”

The two goddesses fell into a stupor of deafening silence. La Muerte had stood her ground, acting cool and collected. La Noche didn’t know how to respond, mouth hanging open as she searched for something to say.

“If you’ve been talking to him, then I guess you’re on his side, no?” La Noche looked up to face her sister’s hard gaze with shock.

“And what are you implying by that?,” she asked, anger quickly beginning to boil under her skin. “Being with him doesn’t change who I am!”

La Muerte laughed – it came out forced, filled with a new and sudden loathing. “That means you’re with the enemy – plain and simple. How can I trust you now? What if you two are plotting something?”

Gasping, La Noche disappeared – then quickly reappeared inches away from her sister in a flash of sparks. “How dare you! I’m sure if we were plotting something, I’d have killed you by now!”

The words slid from her mouth so fast that neither one knew how to react. It took a few moments for it to register in their brains; La Muerte took a step back as her sister covered her mouth with her hand.

“I – I didn’t mean that. I wouldn’t kill you – you know that…” One burning gaze met another, and this time the silence was welcomed.

“Stay away from me and my husband,” La Muerte whispered. “I’m sorry my dear _hermana_ , but I must take these precautions.” A flash of golden light, and the colorful goddess had disappeared.

La Noche watched as a few marigold petals fell to the ground in her wake. She bent over to hold them in her hands, and suddenly, she felt cold. 

So her sister wanted to play this game, did she? She began laughing, the sound growing from a chuckle to a bellow within seconds. Her hands clenched into fists, crushing the petals instantly.

“I was trying to keep myself from doing anything brash,” she hissed. “I was trying to tell Metu not to do anything we’d regret.” A sickening smile lit her face, and she began to sink and transform into a pool of shadows.

The goddess had quickly grown dark – her happy nature had evaporated so quick it was frightening. “I’m so sorry La Muerte,” she murmured. “I didn’t want it to be this way.” 

The goddess zipped off into the night, heart soaring at the fact that she was going to see her beloved king once more.


	7. Chapter 6

“Right after that, we didn’t see La Noche or Metu for quite a while.” Xibalba leaned back against a column, arms crossed. “And to be honest, it kind of scared us; especially La Muerte.”

The kids looked up at the god, eyes wide. “Woah,” Julio gasped. “That’s crazy – how La Noche just suddenly snapped like that.”

Xibalba stared down at the boy for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah – being with Metu didn’t have a good influence on her…” A sigh.

“Well… She loved him, right?” The group looked towards Dennis; the only one who had been silent and partly unamused the whole time. “Maybe she was doing that for him. People do anything for the ones they love.”

Everyone was silent – Dennis popped a bubble and leaned back slightly, waiting for someone to speak up.

“I… I guess you’re right,” Xibalba muttered. “I didn’t think of it that way – but yeah. Nice one kid.” He turned back to the page, pausing.

“Now, I’m sure you all have been wondering where Manolo, Maria, and Joaquin come into all of this,” he muttered, glancing back at them. They all nodded.

“Well – that encounter with La Muerte and her sister occurred only a few months before the bet on the trio.” He turned the page and prepared to continue.

“We’re going to skip forward two years after Manolo and Maria got married – that’s where our story continues.” Another glance at the kids to make sure all was okay, and then he moved on. “The pair was expecting a new visitor – and sadly, their town would be getting a second visitor very soon…”

 

Another few years passed by in peace; it was nice to have a break from all the stress and strange occurrences – but that sudden peace was quite unsettling.

La Muerte continued to check the town of San Angel to make sure nothing was out of place. Xibalba would have other gods go and check in on Metu’s cell to make sure he was still locked up.

The pair took any and all precautions they could – for their safety, and for their realms’.

But on this day – just a few days before the Day of the Dead, everything was oddly quiet in the Land Of The Remembered and the Land Of The Forgotten.

The air had grown quite chilly; spirits seemed to be out of their element, like something was wrong. They felt like a storm was on the rise – their spines tingled as what felt like crackling lighting rippled through their atmosphere.

Something was brewing, and that made them confused. They thought it was just a shift in their rulers’ behavior, but it seemed to be much more than that.

Both La Muerte and Xibalba felt the shift – it made them even more worried than before.

La Muerte sat in the sitting room of her castle. She was curled up was a thick book in her hands; dainty fingers leafed through the pages as she enjoyed a calm evening of reading.

Xibalba was out for the day. He was doing some daily routines and check-ups, and La Muerte knew he wouldn’t be coming home until late. So, what better to do than pick at a loaf of pan de muerto, read a good book, and sip at a glass of smooth, red wine…?

She was popping a piece of bread into her mouth when she heard the castle doors open. She looked out onto the balcony – the sun wasn’t fully down yet. “Xibalba?,” she called, eyes flickering back to look at the page of her book. “You’re home early…”

No answer.

Golden eyes blinked and glanced up to look at the closed door. “Xibalba?” Yet again, no answer. The goddess rolled her eyes and folded her page, closing the book and lying it down on the table next to her.

“This isn’t funny,” she called out, bare feet hitting the wooden floors as she stood up. Wine glass in hand, she walked towards the door, drawing her long, red robe tighter around herself as she opened it. 

La Muerte walked out onto the carpeted stairs – there didn’t seem to be anyone in the main room. “Seriously,” she said. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not going to work.” She took a long sip from the glass in her hand.

Silence greeted her for the third time. A growl rose in her throat – she told him not to play games like this with her. It made her uneasy. She walked down the stairs, and leaned on the bottom railing.

“Xibalba!,” she growled. “This has gone too far – get out here already.” Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly whirled around to face a glowing red figure.

She gasped. The glass slid from her grasp and fell to the floor, shattering as she quickly stepped back. “W-what are you – how did you get in here?,” she asked, voice filled with fear.

A figure made of pure lava and stone stood in the room – face familiar and eyes cold. “I have my ways,” the man snickered, gesturing his head to a puddle of shadows in the corner of the room.

La Noche appeared from it, a sad smile on her face. “Sorry hermana,” she murmured. “It had to be done.”

La Muerte’s gaze turned back to the figure; her body was shaking now. “I’ve come to get my revenge,” he hissed, sliding forward towards her. “And, to fulfill my part of the bet.”

A gloved hand came up to wrap around the goddess’ neck – he easily pushed her up against the wall. Her feet were off of the ground, and she struggled for breath.

“You’ll pay for this,” she muttered, voice coming out in a strangled gasp as she clawed at his hand. The god snickered.

“Oh yes,” he laughed. “I’m so very scared…” His grip tightened, and he leaned forward. “Say my name,” he whispered, breath smelling of pepper and ash.

La Muerte shook her head, and the god shook his head in disappointment. “Please Muertita,” he murmured, icy gaze meeting her now burning one.

“Metu…,” she spat, struggling against his grip. The god sighed, eyes closing in bliss. “Ah… yes… that name. That name that reminds me so much of how weak I used to be.”

He let go of her, causing her to collapse to the floor. She coughed, throat burning as she caught her breath. “You’re like the devil,” she hissed, backing away from him. “Pure evil…”

Metu and La Noche laughed. “Oh – but I am the devil,” he laughed, blinking down at her. “That’s why I expect you to call me by my true name…”

La Muerte’s eyes grew wide, and she looked up at him in shock. “You can’t possibly mean…” But all the god did was smirk.

“That’s right my dear,” he smiled. “I am El Chamuco – bow down to me, your rightful ruler…” The room grew eerily silent, and the goddess shook her head.

“Never,” she growled. “You’re no ruler.” El Chamuco’s smile quickly disappeared, but all he did was shrug. 

“Alright then,” he muttered, backing away. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before settling back on her. “I heard you calling out for my brother – he’s not here, is he?”

La Muerte shook her head, and El Chamuco clicked his tongue. “Aw… what a shame. I just wanted him to know that his beloved little hope was going to die soon…” A sigh. “Oh well – tell him I say hello, and that I’m excited to see him again…”

The god quickly disappeared in a flash of light – La Noche in hot pursuit. La Muerte sat there on the cold floor, trying to process what had happened. Hope? What on earth did that mean?

A creak – she jumped violently and shrank back against the wall as the castle doors slid open again. “Mi amor – I’m home!,” a god called. Xibalba slithered over the threshold, wings spread slightly. “Where are you my - ”

His gaze rested on his wife, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of her lying on the floor. “La Muerte,” he gasped, hurrying over to her and helping her stand. “My love; what happened to you?”

La Muerte met her husband’s gaze – the red, passionate look she loved so much. Tears quickly filled her eyes at the worry on his expression, and she began to sob in his arms.

“El Chamuco came with La Noche – he pinned me up against the wall. I didn’t know what to do.” The goddess choked out a sob. “I was so scared Xibalba…”

The tar god just stood there in slight shock, as if trying to understand her words. “Who’s El Chamuco?,” he asked, tilting her head up and wiping the tears from her eyes. His voice was calm – he had to calm her down.

Their gaze met once more, and La Muerte whispered his brother’s name under her breath. His expression instantly grew grave. So Metu was finally out… He knew this day would come eventually.

“What else did he say?,” Xibalba asked, waiting as his wife hiccupped and breathed heavily – she was towards the end of crying.

“He said… he said something about your beloved little hope dying…” She shook her head in confusion. “I had no idea what he meant, it was all so sudden…”

Xibalba felt as if he had been shot. He stumbled back, away from La Muerte, pain etched on his face. “Hope?,” he echoed. “He said my hope would die?” He couldn’t believe it. No… not her…

La Muerte was trying to catch his attention. “Yeah – do you know what he means?,” she asked. Her heartbeat quickened as he nodded.

“My hope is a person,” he whispered. “Someone I haven’t seen in a long, long time…” A small, sad smile. “I didn’t even know she was still alive…”

The goddess’ brows furrowed. “Who?” She then pouted as Xibalba immediately shut her down. “Not important right now,” he whispered, voice sounding breathless. “I just… she used to be a goddess,” he murmured. His gaze finally moved to meet La Muerte’s, and he sighed.

“We have to begin searching,” he muttered. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done. “I must find her.”

 

“Really Manolo – it’s no big deal. I probably just got morning sickness again.”

Maria struggled to break free of Manolo’s grip – his hand was clamped tightly around her wrist as he dragged her down the street.

“Seriously! It’s no big deal! Please… let go.” Manolo glanced back to meet his wife’s gaze for a moment; those doe brown eyes were so hard to resist…

“No,” he replied, turning away and continuing to stride forward. “You can’t change my mind Maria. We’re almost there anyway.”

The woman in tow groaned, looking quite cross, but decided it be best if she stayed quiet. She’d let Manolo worry. She knew nothing was wrong.

A few moments later, and the pair had reached a small house – it lay just on the outskirts of town, near the cemetery, and looked quite beautiful with its rustic tiling and bright walls.

Manolo’s hand rested on the doorknob, and he pushed the door open, finally releasing his grip on Maria. “Hello?,” he called. Maria looked around the colorful space in uncertainty.

A warm voice came from the other room. “Come on in! I’ll be out in just a moment. Make yourselves comfortable - ”

The two stepped over the threshold at the warm welcome. Maria decided to just stand off to the side. Manolo on the other hand, sat down in the nearest chair.

A tall woman soon came into the room. She was just a little bit taller than Manolo, and had soft, dark olive skin. A large mass of black curls was pulled back into a bun, yet a few stray strands hung around her face. She had warm, golden eyes and a dazzling smile.

Her long black skirt moved fluidly as she walked – bare feet peeked out from underneath. She untied the large apron she wore, revealing a plain white shirt – its sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.

“Sorry,” she chuckled, tucking the apron under her arm and brushing dome dust off of her skirt. “I was mixing some herbs for another patient; how may I help you today?”

Maria looked at the woman skeptically – then back at Manolo. She wanted to tell him she was fine, and that she didn’t need the town’s healer to assess her.

Noticing the awkward looks shared between the two, the healer gasped. “Ah! Sorry! Where are my manners?” She bowed slightly, golden eyes sparkling. “I’m Cora. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Maria – and a pleasure to see you again Manolo.”

Manolo chuckled and shook his head in amusement. “Yeah; it’s good to see you too senora… But I’m not here for a bull fighting injury this time.” His head nodded, gesturing over to Maria. She sighed.

“I was sick all this morning – I told him it was because of morning sickness, and that sometime sit can get violent. I feel fine now, honest.”

Cora’s eyes skimmed over Maria for a moment before laying a hand on her shoulder. “You look fine to me, but there’s only one way to make sure.” She opened a door to her left and gestured to it.

“I’ll just give you a small examination. It won’t take very long,” she said. She shot a small smile towards the hesitant Maria, and followed in pursuit as she began to walk through the doorway.

Manolo just sat there awkwardly, only to jump slightly as the healer peeked out at him. “The kitchen is over there,” she said, pointing to another room. “You can take anything you want if you’re thirsty or hungry.”

Manolo nodded at her, and began to take that offer into account once the healer disappeared. 

“So – is there anything you want to tell me before I begin asking you all my questions?,” Cora asked, reaching into a drawer to pull out a few instruments. She glanced back to see Maria shake her head, and the healer sighed.

“Alright then.” She picked up Maria’s wrist and thumbed her vein – she was feeling for a pulse. “Geez, men… Am I right? They just worry over their pregnant wives all the time, don’t they?,” she murmured, causing Maria to tense up.

“Yeah.” Her gaze met Cora’s for a split second – the healer was trying her best not to laugh – her eyes were bright. Maria sighed. “I mean – I know that I’m very close to term, but I thought the morning sickness was finally over…”

A chuckle left Cora’s lips, and she let go of Maria’s wrist to jot something down on a piece of paper. “You don’t mind if I touch your stomach, do I?” Maria’s brows furrowed in confusion. A small, hesitant nod, and Cora placed her hands on the woman’s stomach.

A few presses here and there – soft touches – as if feeling for something else… “Have you been eating alright?,” she asked. Maria nodded. “What about fatigue? Do you get tired easily?” Another nod.

The questions went on as well as the examination – it had only been a few minutes before Cora stepped back.

“You were determined pregnant in another town, no?” Maria nodded. Cora jotted down a few quick notes before continuing. That was why she hadn’t met her yet…

A few moments of silence as Cora’s eyes skimmed over her notes. She shrugged, and looked up at Maria with a small smile. “I don’t think anything is wrong,” she chuckled. “Manolo’s overreacting, just like you said.”

A sigh from the pregnant woman’s lips. “Great,” she smirked. “We’ll have to go tell him – he certainly won’t be pleased.”

And with that – Maria bid the healer goodbye and exited the room. A worried Manolo rushed up to her side, and she laughed as she told him his suspicions were wrong.

As Cora put her tools away, she couldn’t help but smile as the now bickering couple left the house. It was always so fun to help the people of San Angel – her job was her life – she couldn’t imagine anything but being a healer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something moving. The woman whirled around to see nothing but a shadow on the wall – just the sun reflecting against something in the room. She shrugged, and turned back to her work.

She could have sworn she felt a strange presence in the room – but yet again, she was mixing those heavily scented herbs all morning long…


	8. Chapter 7

He had no idea where she was.

Xibalba hadn’t seen the goddess in years. Her name was Ancora – the goddess of hope. She was beloved by all, just like her mother, and had one day disappeared while protecting Xibalba from the wrath of his father.

She cared for him, and he cared for her – until the day she disappeared. After that, it was hard to find hope in the darkest of times for everyone. Rumor had it that she was tortured for years by an unknown god and murdered.

Others said she was sent to a different realm. Others said she was mortal now, and only a god of her bloodline could give her the power to be a goddess again.

La Muerte said she had never heard of Ancora, and all Xibalba could do was mutter something under his breath about her not understanding. 

That only caused the goddess to grow more confused – was this a past lover in her husband’s life? And if so, why was she still so important to him…?

Xibalba commanded La Muerte and the Candlemaker to split up and look in different realms – they didn’t know how they would find her without a speck of fact or evidence, but that was the point. He would find her on his own.

The god searched high and low – in every dark place he could think of. He knew he had very little time; Metu – no, El Chamuco - never liked Ancora, and was always determined to pin his hatred on her somehow. 

Now he had the chance to get to one of Xibalba’s weak spots – the god knew this was all for that stupid wager.

After searching the last dungeon he could think of, it hit him. People said she could be mortal, right? What if she was in the Land Of The Living…?

A flash of green light, and the god appeared in the town square of San Angel – he knew she could be anywhere, but this was a good place to start.

He didn’t know much about the human world – he didn’t visit it as often as his wife did. Because of this, he knew he would have to get help from a mortal. Someone who knew the town well…

As he thought of a person who could help him out, Xibalba’s eyes rested on a trio walking down the street – a groan left his lips. Of course – the only ones who knew this town from top to bottom had to be them…

The guitarist, the fallen soldier, and the – pregnant – town jewel. Reluctantly, the god slithered up to them; a snap of his fingers and he was visible to their eyes, and their eyes only.

He watched in partial amusement as the three jolted back in surprise. Fear lit their eyes at the sudden sight of the god, and by first instinct, the two men stepped forward as if to shield Maria.

“Xibalba?,” Manolo asked, voice skeptical. A small pause – the two men were pretty tensed up. “What are you doing here?”

Red eyes scanned over the town square for a moment before his arms crossed behind his back. “It’s a pleasure to see you all again as well,” he growled. Neither party seemed pleased to talk to one another.

The god slithered forward slightly, wings ruffled in slight dishevelment as he tried to stay calm. He was still quite scared – he needed to find Ancora as quickly as possible.

“I’m here to ask for your help,” he muttered, head hung slightly as he spoke. Manolo and Joaquin glanced at each other for a moment, and the soldier prepared to speak, only to wince slightly as Maria pushed past the two of them.

“Help?,” she asked. “Why would you need help?” A glance was exchanged within the three mortals – it was a good question indeed – Xibalba, the one who had tried to ruin their lives just a few years ago, had come to them for help.

Xibalba sighed and shook his head slightly. “I need your help to find someone,” he said. “Don’t ask questions; I just need to know whether know everyone in this town or not…”

Manolo opened his mouth to speak against that. He didn’t understand why the god expected any help from them when he had never given them any respect. But, his eyes grew wide in surprise as his wife cut him off.

“Yes – we do,” she said, arms crossed. At least, she thought they did. “Who do you need to find? Just give me a name and looks and I’ll help you out.” As Joaquin and Manolo stared at Maria in shock, Xibalba bit his lip and wrung his hands in discomfort.

“That’s just the problem,” he muttered. “All I know is her name. I have no idea what she would look like…” Another sigh. “I haven’t seen her in thousands of years – she used to be a god, and I believe that she’s a mortal now…. In your town.”

The square was silent – all except for the passing blowing of leaves and voices from other streets. A small snicker came from Joaquin, but Manolo elbowed him in the chest at the sight of the look on Xibalba’s face.

“I’m serious,” he whimpered, his serious expression turning into worry. “If I don’t find her soon she’ll be killed…” She meant the world to him…

The three were quite confused by the defeat on his face – they had to help him. “Okay,” Manolo responded. “We’ll help you. Just… tell us anything you know about her.”

A pause. Xibalba closed his eyes as he thought of her – he hadn’t seen her for so long – his memory of her was slightly fuzzy. “She’s really nice and kind to everyone,” he said. “She tries to help everyone in any way she can, and doesn’t want to leave anyone unsatisfied.”

He took another moment to think some more. “She gives people hope – that’s what her name means – and she is full of dazzling, rustic beauty. Everyone turns to her when they don’t know what to do…”

As the god finished, he seemed partially out of breath; it was mainly because he was speaking in a rush. The trio all looked at each other as they thought of who fit the criteria.

Then, it hit them. Manolo gasped; his eyes lit up as he did so, and the god’s attention instantly riveted towards him. “I know someone exactly like that!,” he exclaimed. 

Xibalba nodded as Manolo told her who she was; her name was Cora, and she had been the town’s healer for years. The man then understood why it looked like she hadn’t aged over the past twenty years…

“That sounds like her,” the god whispered breathlessly. “Where is she? Take me to her!” Yet again, the trio gave each other a strange look. Why was he so desperate to find this woman? This didn’t have anything to do with La Muerte, did it…?

As they led the slightly trembling god through the streets, they seemed to notice how distracted he seemed. It was unusual for the god to look weak and restless – maybe this really was important to him.

They reached to old house on the outskirts of town, and Manolo reached up to open the door. Xibalba drew a breath in and felt his body suddenly grow cold – this was the closest match to her. If she wasn’t in this town, he was in major trouble…

“Hello?,” Manolo called, stepping over the threshold; Maria and Joaquin followed in pursuit. The smell of cinnamon was wafting through the air, and a familiar voice echoed through the house. 

“Just one moment!,” she called. “Gotta take this out of the oven - ” The trio stood there for a moment before realizing the god wasn’t with them. Maria looked back to see Xibalba staring blankly inside.

She gestured for him to come in, and he slowly began to slither in when the voice came closer. “I always get caught at the worst time,” Cora snickered, appearing around the corner – she donned an outfit similar to what she did before, curls hanging around her smiling face.

Xibalba had drawn back. She couldn’t see him – not now. And if it wasn’t her, how would she react to a god in her house?

“Hey Cora,” Manolo smiled, throwing a small wave her way. The healer nodded in his direction in welcome.

“Not here for a check-up I presume?,” she said, voice light and airy. “You just came in yesterday…”

Maria chuckled, rubbing her arm slightly. “Yeah – you’re right. I’m perfectly fine; we aren’t here for me…” As Cora’s eyes darted over to look over the two men, Maria shook her head. “Not them either.” She looked back at the god – standing outside out of the healer’s view – and continued.

“I actually just have a few questions for you,” she said, stalling – for Xibalba’s sake of course. “Like for instance – are you familiar with the gods? Are you spiritual in any way?”

Cora’s brows furrowed slightly – a strange look gleamed in her eyes. “Yes…,” she responded, voice hesitant. “I know who they are…” She just didn’t understand why they needed to know. “And yes – I consider myself spiritual. I am a spiritual healer as well you know.”

Of course – they had forgotten that part… “Well,” Maria continued. “What would your reaction be to meeting one of the gods?”

At that, Cora’s eyes instantly grew dark. She crossed her arms in discomfort, as if unsure of what they were here to talk to her about. Her body was tensed up – she had frozen in place.

“I… I guess it would be a bit of a surprise,” she muttered, words forced. The healer was trying her hardest to act like her normal bubbly self – like what they said turned it off.

Joaquin shook his head. This was taking forever. “What she’s trying to say is that we brought a god here to see you,” he said. “He’s been looking for you – or someone like you, and wants to know if you’re who he’s looking for.”

Cora shrank back a bit at the soldier’s words. A god? Which god? That was the only thought on her mind... “Ah… okay then…” A hesitant pause. “Where is he then?”

Maria glanced outside – Xibalba was shaking. It seemed that at this point, he knew it was her. He knew that voice; it sounded so sweet and melodic, just like he remembered.

He slowly slid in, wings tucked back against his body quite tightly. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he opened them slowly as he stood before the four. 

His gaze turned towards her as he drank her in – she looked so familiar; even if she wasn’t a goddess. Those golden eyes – he hadn’t seen that gaze in so very long.

No reaction came from her except for a breathless gasp. A dainty hand came up to cover her mouth, and Xibalba instantly thought he had done something wrong by coming here. Maybe she was just a healer… He turned to leave, when…

“Xibalba?”

When she said his name, in that way, he felt his body freeze. That voice – saying his name – it was her.

The god whirled around to face the healer. Tears were gathering in her eyes now, as if she couldn’t believe that he was in front of her. 

“Oh… Oh Xibalba!”

Cora rushed up to the god, and he bent down slightly to meet her embrace. Arms wrapped around him, she couldn’t help but choke out a sob. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Xibalba couldn’t help but feel tears gather in his eyes as well, and he held her just a little bit closer as she sobbed. “Me neither,” he muttered, voice low. “But I finally found you…”

The healer pulled away to look up at the towering god – a goofy smile was plastered on her face as she wiped her tears away. “You’ve gotten so big and handsome,” she whispered. “My little hermano, all grown up…”

The trio, still standing in the doorway, froze – their eyes grew wide as they processed the words. Did she just say that he was her… brother?

They turned to face the two, mouths agape. “You guys are siblings?,” Manolo asked. The pair glanced over his way, and Cora couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes… I’m his older sister by a couple thousand years… We haven’t seen each other in - ” She broke off, feeling tears reappear.

“Ages,” Xibalba finished, looking down at his sister with love in his eyes. “She meant the world to me, and then one day she was just… taken away.” 

At this point, Cora was shaking her head. “It’s a day I don’t like to reflect on,” she muttered. “Years of captivity and…” A pause. “I was relieved to finally be set free, even if it meant I couldn’t see my loved ones again…”

The two looked at each other carefully. It had been so long since that had last seen each other. They both wanted to capture this image; what if something like that happened again?

“Oh!” Everyone looked towards the healer as she suddenly gasped. Delight suddenly took over her expression, and she took her brother’s hands in her own. “You’re here… You can set me free!”

A confused glance. “Excuse me?,” Xibalba asked. How would he be able to free her? His mind was drawing to a blank.

“Don’t you remember?,” she asked, voice low. “Only a member of our flesh and blood and give me my powers again…” She sighed. “I do love this mortal body – this mortal life – but I’m meant to be Ancora, the goddess of hope – not a healer.”

Cora smiled up at Xibalba for a moment before continuing. “I love giving people hope. And I can’t do that without my own. Please Xibalba… Can you give me my hope again?”

The trio looked as the two exchanged words. The god nodded, and the healer’s eyes filled with tears once more. He reached up to rest his spindly fingers on her forehead and mutter a few words in an unknown language.

The transformation took mere seconds. Her body arched as pain shot through her body. Golden tipped wings sprouted from her back as she grew, and her hair instantly grew longer – cascading in a mass of curls down her back.

Her skin grew a deathly white – golden marks etched themselves on her face – black circled around her eyelids.

A golden crown rested on her head, and black lace wrapped around her shoulders to form the bodice of a dress. Similar to Xibalba, she wore a dress that dripped with ink – it shone golden against every ray of sunlight. 

The lace continued to wrap down her arms, and a gasp left golden lips as her eyes flashed open. Wings spread wide, she glanced at herself in amazement.

Then, she began to laugh. “I’m free,” she gasped, flapping her wings slightly and looking at her dainty white hands. A finger came up to trace the golden markings on her hand, and a dazzling smile lit her features.

She was now just a little bit taller than Xibalba. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug for a moment before letting go and examining herself once more.

“Ancora is back,” she grinned, wings folding behind her as she adjusted the lace on her arms. The goddess placed her hands on her hips and looked over at Xibalba with a small smirk – sharp teeth gleamed in the light.

“So what were you doing?,” she asked. “It’s been thousands of years. Why would you search for me after all this time?”

Nods were exchanged within the trio. That was a question they had been wondering as well. If he was so worried about finding Ancora, why look for her now?

“Metu went insane,” he muttered, leaning on his staff. “He tried to assassinate me with the obsidian knife - ” A gasp from his sister. “And then went through some weird transformation after he broke out of his prison.” A shudder. “He’s El Chamuco now – and he’s trying to kill you.”

Ancora’s smile instantly disappeared. Her eyes grew wide in shock, and she couldn’t help but gasp. “I knew he was an evil man, but…” It was hard to believe – he never liked her, but still.

“He’s determined to kill you, and I don’t know why,” Xibalba murmured. “That’s why I had to find you – when I found out you were alive… I have to make sure you stay alive. I can’t lose you again.”

A small smile rose on her lips. “I’ve been gone for far too long,” she said. “It’s time I got back into the world.” Then, there was a moment of silence.

It was unbelievable to be in the same room with the sibling he presumed dead; it was insane for the trio to see the gods’ affairs up close once again.

Then, the atmosphere instantly changed. A weird, dark magic filled the air. The two gods could feel it, and instantly looked out of the window towards the graveyard for a moment before meeting each other’s gaze.

“He’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooh we're almost donnneeeee :o


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha time for feels ;D

Maria had no idea what El Chamuco was capable of. He sounded dangerous, but was he? What could be do? Just like her two companions, she was just plain confused.

Plus, that was not the least of her worries. Ever since her check-up the day before, the baby’s kicks had gotten much stronger. Maybe it was just her – but it had become quite painful.

The Day Of The Dead was just one day away, and with these gods threatening to fight in her town… She was so close to her due date; it wouldn’t be safe…

Xibalba had told her to go back home with her friends – he said they would be safer, and if something did happen, he would make sure the gods were as far away as possible.

All they did was nod and head on their way. They weren’t even halfway there when a gasp left Maria’s lips, and she doubled over as a sharp pain radiated through her abdomen.

Manolo’s hands defensively rested on her shoulders; he bent over slightly to look at her, and worry flashed in his eyes. “Are you alright?,” he asked, watching as Maria slowly took the time to breath, and straighten up.

“It was just a kick,” she chuckled, resting a hand over her stomach for a moment before taking a few steps forward. “Nothing to worry about, I promise.”

That one was worse than the rest. It scared her a bit, but if nothing was happening now, she didn’t have to worry. 

The trio continued to walk to the Sanchez house, unaware of the tension brewing just a few blocks away.

 

When the goddess saw him for the first time in thousands of years, she didn’t think he could have gotten worse. His body was made of pure lava, and the stench of spice and death filled the air around him.

The goddess of night was at his arm, staring up at him lovingly as he spoke of evil deeds. It disgusted Ancora to see such confidence and murder in his eyes.

When El Chamuco saw her slithering across the graveyard with Xibalba just behind, he rolled his eyes and shrugged La Noche off of his arm. 

“You just had to ruin it, huh _hermanito?,”_ he growled, arms crossed as his wings ruffled in discomfort. That confused Ancora – she thought he had his wings taken away… then again; they were made from the lava that made up his body.

“I heard you wanted to kill me,” the goddess called out, anger causing her ink to bubble slightly. “Always thought you were the smarter one – like you had the upper hand. Well, you were wrong little brother.”

A hiss left El Chamuco. “You don’t speak to me like that, _woman,”_ he spat. “I have more power than you in every way imaginable. Don’t speak to me about having the upper hand, cause you most certainly don’t.”

“Stop being such a smartass,” Ancora snapped back. “Having new fancy powers and a well thought-out plan is nothing compared to the years of experience I have, you - ”

She was cut off as a deep, throaty laugh left El Chamuco’s lips. “You? Experience? You didn’t have that many years, my dear sister. Most of those years consisted of you being tortured, remember? How is that _experience?”_

At that, the goddess stumbled back, silent. That had hit her a little too close to home, and her eyes felt misty at the awful smile on her brother’s face.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Xibalba growled, stepping forward. “What are you still doing here, hm? I’ve given her back her powers – you can’t kill her now; she isn’t vulnerable any longer.”

The grin on the god’s face only grew, and he reached behind him to draw out a gleaming, black object. “Are you sure about that?,” he sneered, flipping the knife and turning it over in his hands. “I’m sure I could prove you wrong.”

Both gods fell silent – their gazes flickered between the sly grin on their brother’s face and the knife in his hand. Ancora cleared her throat as she pulled Xibalba behind her. He gave her an offensive look, but she glared back at him. Protecting her little brother was top priority.

A small hiss left her lips. “How did you get that?,” she asked, voice low. Another laugh left the opposing god, and Ancora couldn’t help but bite her lip in frustration. “Answer me!,” she screeched, eyes ablaze.

El Chamuco glared over at her, drawing his thumb over the knife’s tip. A few droplets of golden blood fell to the floor, and he began to speak. “Oh my dear, _dear sister_ … I have my ways.” 

Another smirk as he slowly slithered forward. “I want to kill you,” he muttered. “I want you gone so badly… But - ” His eyes wandered over to look at Xibalba. “I have a much greater prize on the line.”

Ancora took another step back – practically bumping into Xibalba – as if to shield him. “Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “But killing me seems to be the only option to get to Xibalba.” A pause. “If you want him, you’ll have to kill me first.”

El Chamuco let out a grunt of frustration. “Fine then.” He turned back to face La Noche. “I want you to end Ancora – no matter what it takes.” A small flash of hesitation passed over La Noche’s expression, but grimly nodded. The god smiled. “Thank you, _Nochessa…”_

The small grin he got from La Noche only caused him to chuckle once more, looking back over at his siblings. La Noche had slid forward a few feet, eyeing Ancora with a dangerous hunger.

There was a sudden flash of golden light behind Xibalba. No. He whirled around to face his wife, horror in his eyes. “What are you doing here?,” he hissed, slithering forward to stand a few inches away from her.

“Someone called for me,” she smirked, gesturing her head to the entrance of the cemetery. The god turned to see Manolo and Joaquin standing there, the taller of the two leaning against a tall grave.

“They shouldn’t be here either!,” he groaned, looking back at his wife. “It’s too dangerous for you three…” La Muerte scoffed.

“Really? Too dangerous? When Manolo told me what was going on, I knew I’d have to get in on the action.” Her golden eyes glared sharply at El Chamuco and his accomplice. “I have some unfinished business with them too…”

A groan. Why was she here? Why were they here? Couldn’t he just deal with this situation by himself – or with just his sister? El Chamuco seemed to be getting anxious during the pair’s exchange, and let out a poisonous sneer.

“Come on _brother,”_ the angry god spat. “Show me your worth – your power. Show me that your soft heart hasn’t deceived you!”

Xibalba glanced between El Chamuco and his wife. He wanted to protect her… His gaze then flashed over to see his sister, standing defensively before La Noche – wings spread in a small sign of mockery.

Tension was heavy in the air. He sighed, and turned to go to his wife’s side. He then froze as his brother spoke once more.

“You’re a pitiful, worthless god!,” he screeched. “Face me like a man! Where the hell is this so-called honor you hold most dear?” A sneer. “I knew you were weak – _scum!”_

Something inside him snapped. Rage quickly began to boil in his blood, and he glared back at his brother with utter disgust.

“You want to fight?,” he hissed. “Bring it on, coward.” Then, all at once, it seemed as if every god in the clearing was fighting with their teeth bared.

La Muerte and Ancora were lashing out at La Noche; their powers combined made quite a powerful force against the night goddess.

Xibalba had lunged at El Chamuco, hissing as his tar bubbled and his wings spread defensively. Claws, magic, and weapons clashed against each other in a messy battle.

Manolo and Joaquin had backed away – staying close enough to watch the fight, but far enough away to stay out of harm’s reach.  
It was horrifying to watch the deities in battle; things the duo thought could never be done by these beings were being done right before them.

And, even in the midst of all the screeching, Manolo couldn’t help but think of his wife. “Maybe we should go back,” he said, glancing over at Joaquin. “We’ve done our part…”

 

Not too long ago, Maria had fallen to the floor of her home with a bloodcurdling cry. Manolo rushed in to see his wife in a huddle, screaming for a doctor.

He had thought something was wrong – she was so close to her due date – and as it turned out, he was partially right. Maria’s water had broken, and a few midwives from other houses came to the Sanchez house to help the soon-to-be mother out.

She had forced Manolo and Joaquin out of the house in a strangled cry – telling them that they could go off and do something while they waited.

Wait until she knew the trouble they had gotten into now…

 

The soldier shook his head. “Maria told us to stay and help, remember? She’s a strong woman Manolo. She’ll be perfectly fine.”

Even with the reassurance, a nagging feeling tickled in his chest. The pair continued to watch the fray – surprised by the glowing irises of the goddesses and their harsh blows. 

They were really going all out. “This is really violent,” Manolo murmured, watching as La Noche leaped at Ancora and drew blood from her face.

Joaquin didn’t look all too phased by the violence – it was normality when you were in the army. Blood wasn’t much of the problem – it was the deaths that really got to the soldiers.

A cry came from La Muerte – La Noche had grabbed at her neck and was forcing her up against a monument. “Well, _hermana…,”_ she hissed, fingers digging into her sister’s flesh. “Such a pity you had to leave so soon!”

Ancora then came bursting in, slamming into the goddesses’ side with such a force that the two fell to the floor. The pendant La Muerte wore fell to the floor, but she took no notice.

A hand came up to touch the blood on her neck, and she cracked a smile. “Guess you were wrong,” she muttered, leaping into the fray once more.

Manolo rushed forward to pick the necklace up off the ground. He turned it over in his hand for a moment before sticking it in his pocket. When the fight was over, she would want it back…

Another cry sounded form across the graveyard – El Chamuco was pressing the blade to his brother’s throat, trying to struggle against Xibalba’s grip.

The younger of the two managed to throw the other to the ground, spitting on the ground beside him and wiping blood from his lips.

La Noche had Ancora in her grip – La Muerte was off to the side, panting and watching the two brothers as silence fell over the clearing.

He breathed heavily. “This is over El Chamuco,” he growled, looking down at the god in shame.

Xibalba began to slither away, unaware of the fact that El Chamuco was slowly staggering to his feet. “We have drawn unnecessary blood,” the younger god continued. “You have lost. Leave, and you will be spared…”

A growl left the other god’s throat as he managed to stand. An alien screech left his lips as he leaped at his brother, blade held before him. 

Xibalba heard someone scream his name, but everything was a blur. His body froze at the sudden sound of weapon piercing flesh.  
The cemetery fell deathly quiet.

Xibalba instantly felt the pain – he felt like he had been shot, and like a piece of him was missing. But there was one problem. He looked down at his torso. The blade had never pierced his bone…

The god whirled around to see the beautiful goddess he held most dear – his beloved wife – holding her hands over her abdomen.

Blood stained her gown, and the gleaming tip of the obsidian dagger slightly peeked through her fingertips.

Her body shook slightly, and her eyes flickered up to look at him. She met his gaze, and he could feel the breath get knocked out of him. Her lips parted, and she then whispered his name in a silent plea. “Xibalba…”

He rushed up to her, fear taking over his expression. La Muerte had staggered back slightly, and the god was quick to wrap his arms around her to keep her steady.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered, holding her gingerly. He could feel her knees buckling and bent over to lay her gently on the floor. His wings instinctively folded themselves around her.

A small wince left the goddess’ lips, and a strangled gasp wasn’t hesitant to follow right after. The pain was agonizing, he could see it, and Xibalba could also see the light fading from her eyes.

A small cry sounded behind him – Ancora was continuing to struggle in La Noche’s grasp, and was biting furiously at her. El Chamuco was standing beside the two goddesses, eyes wide as he watched the scene unfurl.

At the small flash of satisfaction in his brother’s eyes, Xibalba felt desperation and anger cloud his vision. “How _dare_ you!,” he cried.

El Chamuco looked at the younget god in surprise – fear was etched into his face, and tears seemed to be gathering in his eyes.

“Do you see what you’ve done!?,” he continued, looking back down at La Muerte. Spindly fingers came up to brush some hair away from her face.

He watched in despair as the light continued to fade from her eyes. “Stay with me mi amor,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly as he gazed into her eyes. A small smile appeared on her lips – it was oddly calming amidst the reality of the moment. 

All other sounds seemed to fade away as his head hung low: the screams of his sister as she was being dragged away; the low chuckle of his brother as he, his wife, and their captive disappeared in a flash of light; the soft cries he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He blinked in surprise – a soft hand had come up to brush the tears from his cheeks. “You know I can’t stay,” the goddess murmured, voice barely audible. “It’s too late my love…”

Those words made his heart stop, and he shook his head in denial. He refused to believe that within minutes, she’d be gone.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled, resting a hand over her wound. As soon as he did though, La Muerte winced, and he quickly drew back.

A soft chuckle. “Sorry Xibalba,” she smiled. “I love you, but… I can’t stay awake for much longer.” A low whine rose from her throat as she looked down at the wound. “It _hurts…”_

So this was it. She knew it. She was leaving him… forever. A soft golden light appeared in the corner of his eyes – her fingertips were slowly beginning to disintegrate.

“Don’t leave, don’t leave, please – my dear – I _need_ you…” Xibalba choked out a sob, wrapping himself tighter around her as if to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.

La Muerte’s smile disappeared. “Xibalba,” she said, causing the god to meet her gaze. “Don’t forget me…”

A long, mournful wail echoed through the cemetery – the god rested his forehead against hers, waiting and watching as she continued to disintegrate.

La Muerte took her last breath as her eyes slid closed. The remaining part of her disappeared into the night sky in a halo of golden light. She was gone.

The first cry of a newborn baby could be heard throughout the town. Maria had delivered her baby safe and sound.

Manolo wanted to rush off and see if she was alright – but seeing the god there, on his knees, wings drooping on the ground in defeat… He knew he had to do something.

“Xibalba?,” he called out, taking a few steps forward. The god just stayed motionless, staring down at the dagger in his hand – the only thing that didn’t disappear. 

“Leave me alone,” he growled. “I just lost my wife, my sister, and any honor I had left. I don’t need your stupid sympathy. I _hate_ sympathy!”

Joaquin nodded. “He’s right Manolo,” he sighed. “We have to give him some time. “The soldier clapped a hand down on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

All Manolo did in response was pull the pendant out from his pocket. “This fell off during the fight,” he murmured, holding it out for the god to see. “I thought you might want it to… you know… remember her by.”

Xibalba looked up at the gleaming piece of gold. The moment his eyes rested on it, he recoiled back in disgust. “I don’t want that hideous thing,” he spat, hostility taking over his expression as he got to his feet.

Manolo stumbled back, looking at the locket for a second before looking back at the god. “But this is your wife’s!,” he cried. “Why wouldn’t you want it?”

A small sneer rose on Xibalba’s lips. “You mean it _was_ my wife’s…” The bullfighter’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head slightly.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t want anything to remember her?” That caused the god to grow even more hostile, wings spreading out defensively.

“I can remember her perfectly fine on my own,” he hissed. “I have to take over her precious realm, don’t I? I’ll get my fill of remembering her!”

At this moment, Joaquin came up to pull Manolo away from Xibalba. “Let’s just go,” he murmured. “You want to see Maria, don’t you?”

Maria. Of course. He’d forgotten about her for a moment there. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s…” The two men slowly trudged out of the cemetery, glancing back at the pacing god every once in a while.

He’d be okay, right? That thought continued to pop into the pair’s minds. Losing his wife would be hard to overcome, but he was strong – one day he’d be back to normal.

Within minutes, Manolo burst through the door the see his wife laying on the bed – a small bundle enveloped in a blanket sat in her arms.

At the sight of him in the doorway, Maria cracked a smile. She wouldn’t ask about the fight quite yet – this was a moment the two had to focus on.

“Come here you _guitarrista,”_ she chuckled. “Come and meet our little girl…” Her husband quickly made his way over to his side, eyes wide as he looked down at his daughter in awe.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Maria and holding her close. “Are we still going with Micaela?,” he asked, thinking of the girl names the pair had thought of.

Maria shook his head, and Manolo’s brows furrowed. “I was thinking of something different,” the woman whispered, smiling down at her daughter.

“The name just came to me out of the blue, and I think it would be perfect for our _niñita…”_ Looking up at Manolo she chuckled. “I was thinking of the name Catrina.”

Looking down at his daughter, Manolo shot his wife a curt nod. “That would be perfect,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “Catrina it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only two more chapters left!


	10. Chapter 9

The god stared down at the floor blankly. Not a single whisper came from the children, and at that, he knew he had gone too far.

He had told them, right? He’d warned them that something bad would happen – that this story was not for the faint of heart.

Red eyes flickered up to look at them – there they sat, on the floor, mouths hung open and eyes wide in shock. They seemed to be in immense distress – he felt the same way.

“But that isn’t right!,” Sasha cried, being the first to speak up. “We saw La Muerte last year – and today! If she died then, how is she here now?”

The other kids were slowly pulled out of their stupor and nodded along with the girl’s comment. It didn’t make sense to them, and Xibalba could see why.

“I’ll explain that later,” he murmured, voice monotone as he tried to recollect himself. “I warned you all though, didn’t I?”

The kids instantly nodded, and Xibalba sighed. “This is why I hate dealing with children,” he grumbled under his breath. “None of you take people seriously until it happens…”

Yet another sigh. He glanced at the book, and turned the page. Thank the gods that the chapter he’d dreaded most was done.

“The museum’s closing soon,” he murmured. “Let’s try and get as much done as possible, alright? So how’s this…?” A pause.

He glanced between the kids for a moment before continuing. “How about we have no interruptions – like it’s been so far – and we’ll get more done.”

The whole group nodded, and Xibalba turned back to the book. “Alright then. Where was I? Ah yes… While I was away, working harder than ever to keep the two realms in balance, the town of San Angel was dealing with their own little problem…”

 

Years flew by surprisingly fast after that day.

The town was thrilled to hear of the new, beloved daughter of the Sanchez house. Little Catrina was a sight to behold by all, and as she grew up, everyone could see how similar she was to her mother.

Catrina was quite the rebellious kid once she was able to walk, and always seemed to get into trouble. Every other day she would come home covered in mud or soaked in water, and she’d have a goofy grin on her face that would tell her parents immediately what she had done.

Her mother was fine with it. Manolo was a bit tense when someone came to them to complain, but he’d gladly let Maria take over. People continued to suggest taking Catrina to Spain for some ‘straightening out’, but Maria refused.

Catrina had her freedom, and after a while, the town got used to it. By the time she was eight, they were used to her crazy shenanigans.

The only day she wouldn’t play around was on November 2nd. Her parents were quite surprised by her calm demeanor on the day – how she would kneel down with them to pray and would be more respectful and careful than all the other kids.

As she grew up though, she grew very mature. The young girl discovered the town’s library one day, and began to spend every waking hour there.

Her father would find tons of notes about mythical subjects – the gods, the realms, stories and tall tales… It was nice that she found something she liked, but…

On this particular Day Of The Dead however, just a day after her thirteenth birthday, Manolo felt like Catrina was a bit too attached to the graves of her relatives – the ones she had never even met.

“Eh… novio – why don’t you go and play with the other kids tonight,” he murmured, tilting his head to look down at the girl.

Immediately, Catrina began to whine. “But Papá!” Amber eyes glanced over at the other children playing in the clearing. “I want to stay here with you and Mamá.”

Manolo chuckled. “That’s sweet mi hija, but I want you to try and explore for once.” He tilted her head up to look at him. “For me? Please?”

A pause. The girl thought it over for a moment before sighed. “Okay. I’ll go explore.” At those words, Manolo grinned.

“Thank you sweetheart,” he said, running a hand through her thick black hair for a moment before standing. “We’ll be here – don’t worry.”

With a groan, Catrina stalked off. The bullfighter sighed as he watched her leave his line of vision, and jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Didn’t listen to you again?” The sweet voice of his wife sounded in his ear, and he tilted his down to look at her lovely brown eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s just that… lately, it seems like she doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say.” Maria chuckled, and Manolo shot her a confused look.

“She’s at that age,” she murmured. “You have to give her space to be herself – this is the time where she’s trying to figure everything out.”

Manolo scoffed. “She has plenty of time to be herself,” he grumbled. “She’s always in that library of hers, studying and reading and writing away… I’m just afraid that if she isn’t more social she’ll - ”

Maria’s hand came up to rest on his cheek, and he broke off. “She’s fine. Just because she’s a little bit secluded and likes to do things different from us doesn’t mean something’s wrong.”

She was right. He was just getting worked up over nothing. He shot a small nod her way to let her know that he understood, and the pair returned to the memorials of their loved ones.

On the other side of the cemetery, Catrina was strolling through a deserted part of the clearing. She toyed with the fabric of her dress for a moment before turning to her hair – twirling it in her fingers.

Nothing interesting ever happened anymore. She remembered all the amazing stories her parents told her of what it was like before she was born.

They told her about the insane fights and bets, and how they took part in one of the greatest battles in history. A sigh left her lips. She wished those events were still happening. She would kill to see it all.

A small glance around the cemetery – there was a small, square grave. Catrina dragged her feet over to it and sat down, crossing her ankles and resting her chin in her hand as she began to think.

It was something she found herself doing often. Thinking helped her relax, and it always gave her wonderful, new ideas.

As she sat there, a soft green glow appeared in the corner of her eye. It immediately caught her attention, and her train of thought quickly derailed. 

She turned her head, and what she saw caused her to gasp. It was one of the gods depicted in her books; the lord of the Forgotten – he was probably here for Dia De Los Muertos…

What she didn’t understand was that he took no one took notice to him – he slithered through row after row of graves, glancing down at the people with a scowl on his face.

“That’s odd,” she murmured. “Am I the only one who can see him?” It was quite strange indeed – and that piqued Catrina’s interest.

Slipping off of the grave, she slowly walked over to where he stood. He had pulled back from the giant group of people and was watching them in a secluded part of the cemetery.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and brushing some dirt off of her dress, she took another couple steps closer to him and cleared her throat.

Red eyes instantly flashed to look her way, but he didn’t say a word. He probably assumed that she was looking for someone else – he then looked away, back to scanning over the graves.

Catrina cleared her throat again, and this time his head turned her way. “Hi there,” she smirked, giving him a small wave.

His eyes grew wide and he stumbled back slightly. He was looking at himself – as if to check to make sure he was visible to her.

“Yeah, I can see you,” Catrina continued, folding her hands in front of her. The god only stared at her as if he’d seen something frightening.

“I… I can see that,” he muttered, arms slowly going behind his back. He quickly scanned her before pulling out his staff and leaning on it.

“You’re Xibalba, right?” The god paused before giving the girl a curt nod. “I figured. I’ve read about you in my books.”

A small sniff. He seemed quite uninterested in her at this point, and Catrina knew she had to say something else. It wasn’t every day you got to speak to a god!

As she searched for something else to say, Xibalba scanned her again. “You’re Manolo’s kid, aren’t you?,” he grumbled. Catrina nodded.

“I’m Catrina,” she chuckled, giving him a smile as she curtsied. That smile – it was so pretty… Xibalba’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned forward.

“Where’d you get that?,” he suddenly hissed, a spindled finger coming out to point at the pendant around her neck.

Catrina looked at it and touched it with her fingertips for a moment before speaking. “Papá gave it to me on my second birthday,” she said, tracing the edge of it with her finger.

“He said it belonged to your wife.” Xibalba immediately cringed; so it was what he thought it was. “He told me that she lost it in a battle – a battle where she had to be very courageous and strong.”

Catrina’s head turned up to look at the god with a smile. “I’ve read a lot about the gods,” she said. “And I’ve always wanted to strive for greatness and do what’s best for my people.”

Amber eyes flickered down to look at the medal. “I want to be strong, courageous, beautiful, smart, and kind… Just like her.”

At those words, Xibalba cringed – his wings were pressed tightly against his back, and he was clutching his staff so hard that it looked like it would snap at any moment.

“That’s nice,” he grumbled, voice strained. He hated being reminded of his wife – every word that related to her, no matter how small, made him cringe.

And right now, standing before this girl, felt strange – familiar even. Here stood another person who wasn’t afraid to smile at him and be kind – gods – he hated it so much.

“So – what do you want?,” he asked, beginning to grow quite disgusted from their conversation. “If you’re here to talk about my wife, I have no business with you.”

Catrina paused for a moment to think – this was a big opportunity, and she was ruining it. Brushing some stray strands of hair away from her face, she blinked up at him with curiosity.

“I was actually hoping you could answer a few questions for me,” she smiled. “My father never had an answer for what I asked him, so…” A small shrug.

Toying with the fabric of her dress, she bit her lip. “Over the last couple of years, I’ve noticed I was different than the other kids – Mamá and Papá noticed it and thought something was wrong with me, but I never thought so.”

She placed a dainty hand over her stomach before continuing. “I was born with a strange birthmark right here,” she murmured. “It - ”

Xibalba scowled, causing her to grow quiet. “A birthmark – wow. I agree with your father completely, something is absolutely wrong with you…”

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her. She was wasting his time. He could be leaving this wretched place – he could be at home with a glass of wine in his hand.

“I see things.”

The god froze, head tilting slightly to look back at her. “Everyone does kid. What do you see that’s so special?”

Catrina folded her hands in front of her again. “I see you guys,” she murmured. “I know that the gods watch over the town – I see them all the time.” She looked at him. “Especially you.”

Xibalba felt his heart stop. She couldn’t be serious – seeing gods? That wasn’t something a mortal could just… do.

“You hang around that clearing over there,” she muttered, pointing over to a large empty part of the cemetery. “Papá told me that was where the battle took place – I could tell. You mourn your wife there all the time, don’t you?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave the girl a reluctant nod. “I do,” he grumbled. “That was where she died.”

The girl stayed silent, looking over to the clearing as if trying to picture what the battle looked like. It must have been quite violent, them being gods and all.

“What other things do you see?” Her head shot up to look at the god as he spoke, and she gave him a small shrug.

“I also have weird dreams, but Mamá said that’s just my imagination.” Catrina shrugged. “I agree – I think a lot and read tons of books, so…”

Weird dreams, a strange birthmark – oh gods, what else? What trauma did this child go through to experience all these things?

The god leaned heavily on his staff – she had his attention now. “Interesting,” he muttered. He had to learn more – this girl – there was something quite intriguing about her.

Xibalba opened his mouth to speak, to ask her what exactly she saw, but froze at a nearby voice calling out to her.

“Catrina!,” called a man’s voice. “It’s late. Time to go home!” The young girl looked back over her shoulder, a sigh leaving her lips.

“Papá’s calling,” she murmured. “I need to go.” She looked up at the god with a small smile. “It was really nice to meet you – you aren’t as mean as the books said.”

She laughed a little – Xibalba narrowed his eyes, confused. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again,” he grumbled. “Then you can tell me all about your little quirks…”

He meant it as a joke, obviously, but was surprised to see Catrina nodding. “That would be great! Yes.” She took a few steps back.

“Maybe if I see you again, I’ll tell you about my dreams.” A quick roll of his eyes, and Xibalba crossed his arms. Sure – it seemed like quite a rare possibility that they would meet again.

“Bye - ” The girl dashed off through the graves, making her way to her parents with a smile on her face. She finally got to meet one of the gods she saw in her dreams.

This answered so many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one mooooooore


	11. Chapter 10

After her encounter with Xibalba, she didn’t see him again.

Whenever she walked to school or church, she always took the time to look around and try to spot him in a dark crevice or on a rooftop somewhere in town.

But, he had his ways of hiding from her, and after four years of searching, she gave up on looking for him. She was seventeen by this point – it was time to stop playing games.

Catrina then decided to get a job at the library, helping run it and offering to do a weekly lesson for the kids – whether it be about the history of San Angel, or the battles that took place many years ago.

Her parents thought it was an interesting job, but loved that their daughter was doing something that made her happy.

On this day, Catrina had picked one of her favorite books to teach the kids about. It held any and all known information about the mystical gods that were all around them – the kids were enthralled by the topic.

Questions were being asked left and right, and some kids were asking if they could check out books on the topic.

Catrina felt accomplished – it wasn’t the fact that the kids wanted to learn more. It was the promising looks in their eyes that their imagination and knowledge had been stretched farther than ever before.

That was the reason why she did it. Knowing that people who came to library, to her sessions, would leave with new knowledge and inspiration – it was comforting, to say the least.

On this night, she had been given the keys to the library. Closing up – she rarely did it, but didn’t mind. It meant that she could stay amongst the books for as long as she wanted.

Stacking a few books in her arms, she headed over to her desk with a small smile on her face. She rested the books down on the desk and sat in the chair, sighing as a sudden relaxation dawned on her.

She tied back her long black hair and picked up the first book, flipping open the cover and beginning to leaf through the pages.

As soon as her eyes rested on the first page, time meant nothing to her. It flew by quickly, and before long, she had lost sense of the real world.

Then, a strange presence filled the room, and she was pulled back into reality. There was a shifting off to the side – Catrina laid the book down on the desk and looked over to where she heard the noise. Nothing.

She wanted to shrug it off – she wanted to say it was nothing – but she felt something strange, and she had to go investigate.

Walking through the rows of shelves, her eyes scanned over the books and corners of the library. Something in the corner – she couldn’t help but stumble back in surprise.

A man leaned back against the wall with a book in his hands, looking crippled and disheveled. He didn’t look very old, but from what he wore, she could tell the weight of life had taken its toll on him.

“Sir?,” she called, taking a few steps towards him. “The library closed a half hour ago. I’m going to have to ask you leave.”

A small laugh left his lips, which soon grew into a deep bellow. “I don’t think you want me to leave,” he muttered, looking up at her.

His eyes were a sickening red that seemed to glow in the darkness that surrounded them. A smirk danced on his lips, and he snapped the book shut.

Catrina just stared at him with her mouth slightly agape – she knew those eyes, but where had she seen them before?

“Really?” The man shook his head and pushed himself off of the wall, throwing the book off to the side. “I thought you of all people would recognize me, Catrina. You know – with your special gift and all.”

At those words, the young woman lit up. “No way,” she murmured, feeling her heart beat just a little bit faster at the prospect of the man being who she thought he was.

“Xibalba?”

The man chuckled again, nodding over to her for a moment before transforming into his natural form. “Yes, it’s me.”

A bright grin lit up Catrina’s expression at the sight of the god before her. “I began thinking it was all a dream,” she exclaimed, laughing in disbelief.

The god pulled out his staff, leaning on it for a moment before speaking. “No, it was all quite real. I just didn’t want to talk to you until now is all.”

The young woman tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear – Xibalba peered down at her intently. The way she did that looked… familiar. A shake of his head – the thought was gone.

“I was looking for you for years,” she said. “I knew you probably didn’t want to talk to me again, but I was never able to find a trace of you in our town.”

Xibalba shrugged. “I was… busy,” he muttered. That was the honest truth – he had been searching for El Chamuco, since the number of reports of him appearing had grown.

El Chamuco had his sister after all, and if he could find them in time, he would have the chance to save her. Yet at the same time, he knew that the deranged god was out to kill him.

That was why he didn’t want to stay in San Angel for too long. It would give him away if he stayed in one place all the time.

“Sure,” Catrina laughed. That laugh – why did it remind him of…? “I totally believe you,” she smirked. She was joking of course – gods had lives too.

“So,” she continued, walking over to pick up the book he had thrown away. “What brings you to San Angel now? It’s been four years since you were last here.”

As he searched for an answer, the young woman brushed off the book and put it back in its place, and then grabbed her skirts and shook the dust off of them as well. The library was quite old, after all.

The god across from her noticed that she was still wearing the pendant around her neck – it went very nicely with the maroon gown she was wearing. It caused him to forget about what she had asked.

“You still wear that?,” he asked, avoiding her previous question all together. Catrina looked up at him puzzlingly, then down at her pendant, and smiled.

“Oh, this?,” she asked, resting her fingertips on it gently. “Yeah, I do. Papá gave me the option of putting it away or selling it, but I wanted to keep it.”

Xibalba nodded in understanding. His heart ticked in annoyance at the thought of the necklace getting sold to some random stranger, but then again, it was his wife’s – not his.

“There’s something about it that makes me love it,” Catrina mumbled, folding her hands in front of her dress. “I don’t know what it is yet, but I feel like if I got rid of it, I’d be getting rid of something important.”

Then again, Catrina remembered how important it was to the god. She remembered their discussion over it just a few years back.

A small bout of silence. The pair stood there in the dark, Xibalba’s candles and green endoplasm lighting up the walls around them with unsettling shadows. “You never answered my question,” she then added, and the god emitted a small gasp.

“Oh right,” he grumbled, leaning the staff against a wall and crossing his arms. “I was looking for someone – someone that’s a danger to others… A god told me that there was a strange presence here.”

Catrina’s brows furrowed in slight confusion, and she looked down at her feet for a moment before speaking.

“You’re talking about Metuculosus, right?,” she asked, causing the god’s eyes to widen in shock. “Or El Chamuco? I was told that he was the one who took the obsidian dagger. Is that right?”

Xibalba nodded, and the young woman shrugged. “I don’t think he’s here,” she murmured. “I mean – one of the major goddesses has been hanging around lately… maybe that’s the - ”

The god across from her felt his eyes narrow. A major goddess? The only major goddesses he knew were the sun and moon deities, and… 

The last goddess he thought of was instantly dismissed. It couldn’t have been her – the goddess of goodwill and kind hearts had died a long time ago.

“Do you know who?,” he interrupted, causing Catrina to look up at him with confused eyes. “What her name is? No – I couldn’t find her in my books.”

Damn – that was a shame. “Do you know why she’s been hanging around here?,” he then asked, peering down at her with longing.

Catrina bit her lip, thinking. “Well, if El Chamuco is out looking for you, maybe she’s here to protect the town. I’m sure this is the first place he would look.”

Xibalba felt his heart stop – that statement was very true, and the realization of how real his situation was felt like a sharp blow to the stomach. His breath seemed to be knocked out of him.

“I want to talk to her,” he muttered. He looked into the girl’s eyes – meeting her bright amber gaze with determination.

The young woman shook her head. “I’m pretty sure she won’t talk to me,” she murmured. “She’s very reserved – she almost never shows herself.”

A roll of his eyes – he scoffed. “Maybe it’s because you’re a mortal,” he muttered. “I’m sure she’d talk to another god.”

Catrina pouted. He was probably right – a lot of gods tried their hardest not to give themselves away to humans. “But…” 

“Look,” Xibalba muttered, causing the woman to blink up at him. “Take me to where you saw her last. If she’s here to protect the town from El Chamuco, she probably has more information about him.”

A shrug. “Okay.” A nod of her head in the other direction. “Let me just lock up the library, then we can leave.” The god let out a small huff and followed her down the hallway.

Within minutes, the pair began walking down the streets of San Angel. The two were quiet, until Xibalba thought of something to break the silence.

“So I see you work at the library,” he muttered. “Why?” Catrina hands were busy fiddling with the skirts of her gown, but they froze as she looked up at him.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I always wanted to help people some way, and I get these kids who come to my little lessons every week.”  
She chuckled and smiled, looking down at her feet for a moment before continuing. “It makes me happy to know that I’m helping these kids learn something new and enjoy it.”

Oh – right. She was the type of person who loved everyone – and loved helping everyone at that. How could he forget?

He opened his mouth to speak again; he wanted to ask her more about her weird dreams and visions, but found himself stopping in the middle of the road.

Catrina had frozen in her tracks, looking up into the night sky with wonder in her eyes. The stars were like dots of silver paint on a navy blue canvas – the moon was bright and full. Xibalba felt a light pang of regret from an unknown source.

“She’s here,” Catrina murmured, looking around the square. The town was quiet – no one seemed to be walking through the streets.

Her eyes were set on the rooftop of a nearby house. Xibalba’s gaze followed her as a small hand came up to point at a blank space above the rustic tiles.

“There,” she whispered, causing Xibalba to laugh. There was nothing there – nothing but sky. But as soon as he saw how serious she was, he frowned.

“I don’t see her,” he muttered, crossing his arms in slight annoyance. “If you’re toying with me, girl, you’ll regret it.”

The young woman shook her head, turning back to look at him once more. “No, I swear! She’s sitting right there on the rooftop – she’s looking right at us.”

Red eyes glanced up to look at where she was pointing. A chill suddenly ran down his spine, and he felt his gaze lock on something; something that wasn’t there.

Then, suddenly, the square filled with blinding light. Both Catrina and Xibalba shielded their eyes, looking away and grimacing at the sheer brightness of it.

He didn’t know how long he had his eyes closed, but as soon as he heard the girl besides him gasp, he looked up.

A gorgeous woman was floating down from the rooftop. She had a thin, slender figure – fair skin glowed dimly in the darkness, and golden blinked down at the two in shock.

A long train of white fabric seemed to flow behind her – the ends of it disappeared into mist, as if it were magic. Golden bands curled up her arms, and a crown of golden leaves sat in flowing white hair.

Her feet touched the ground, and it seemed like all light around her had vanished. Dainty hands came up to cover rose colored lips as a faint gasp came from her.

As soon as he saw her face, Xibalba knew who she was. He felt weak, and he had to lean on his staff to keep himself from collapsing.

The goddess was Carissimmi, the one who was presumed dead after years of torture from her husband. She was said to have died protecting her son from the wrath of his father.

She was the queen of goodwill and kind hearts – her name meant ‘beloved’ and oh, she was. Everyone loved her, for she was the greatest and most regal queen the realms could ever have.

Tears rose to her eyes as she peered down at Xibalba. “It’s you,” she whispered, a small sob racking her body. Ah – her voice. It sounded like the rushing of a stream – the laughter of children.

At those two words, Xibalba felt the world around him stop. Everything went cold, yet tears of his own burned hot in his eyes.

That was a face he was never supposed to see again. What was she doing here? She should have been dead for eons.

A word rose on his lips – one he never thought he’d say since her death. His breath shook as he forced himself to meet her gaze – to watch as tears trailed down her fair cheeks.

It was her.

“Mother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ennnnnnnd


	12. Author's Note

_Hey everyone - it's me, the author. I just wanted to apologize due to the face that I posted this story back in 2015, and completely forgot to put up the rest once I finished the story. This writing is very old (I've improved a lot since I wrote this)._

_Now as you guys can see, it was to be part of a series called 'Dying Flowers'. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find the inspiration to write the rest of the sequel to this. I've written the first two chapters, but I can't find the inspiration or creativity to finish it. I'd really like to finish it, since I had it all planned out, but I'm unsure._

_If people want me to write it, I will, but it may take a while to update now and then because I'm trying to focus on my other fics, and school will be starting in a month for me. I can try if you all want me to though._

_On a happier note, I wanted to thank everyone that stuck with story even though I stopped updating after a while. I want to thank everyone who read it, and everyone who left a kudo, a comment, a bookmark, anything. Knowing that people are reading and enjoying what I write means the world to me._

_Even though this writing is very old (I wrote it in the early months of 2015), and my writing has improved by a LANDSLIDE, I'm glad people enjoyed this work. It's a dream of mine to become a writer, and this was the start of something I never knew I had the drive for. Your kudos and comments and views all helped me continue to write. :)_

_Last time - thank you all!_

_~lamuexte, the Author_


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